A poem of my perception of the night.
I look up into the sky, my body sprayed across the crisp grass. What you might see is normal, for everyone one of us looks at the same beaten sky. But what I see is something I feel. A grass gripping tension, strong feeling of isolation. I feel as if someone is zooming out on me, and the realization of how minuscule I am in this vast universe washes over me like a wave. Those distant stars, so far away, yet I cannot feel how far unless I make that leap. It’s like looking at a mountain and trying to place a human on it to make yourself understand how big it actually is. And if my white gripped knuckles weren’t clenched tight around the innocent strands of green, id float away like a balloon. Maybe id float to those stars. Another me could be on those stars too for all I know. That me could be thinking these same things. That me does not know me and I don’t know them but they too have so much to learn. Both of us won't let go of the grass, I just know it. We contain ourselves too much to chance.
8.8.19
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