Suppose I wrote a song of the universe,
each word for a galaxy, music as grand as the ages,
and every pause a breath a different life-form takes.
Suppose I sing it in a secluded corner of an unknown planet.
The song takes birth, stretches and spreads across the heavens.
Like water flowing into an empty bowl, like air sucked
into vacuum, it flies to places far, to beings unheard
and through black holes to all time streams.
In that single moment it is sung in galaxies galore and days
past and yet to come, and the entire universe reverberates.
So that in a single instance it truly becomes
the song of the universe.
The song in that moment I would give
to you so you won’t feel empty anymore.
On days when breathing is painful
When music on full cannot pull
my pitiful thoughts spinning in whirlpools
to a silent blissful cool;
On days when I can’t but hate
the trade offs in life I made
family for freedom, freedom for money,
money for travel, travel for stability;
On days I roam pretending I’ve grown
all worries in a messy bag thrown
in a corner of my mind I actively ignore
so I can feign normalcy against all truth known;
On days when I can’t love the sky,
whether the Sun shines or clouds float by
Even as it tries horizon to horizon spread so wide,
to comfort the eyes heedless of time;
On days I spin stories of distant glories
which color my life like a jar of candies
I keep held in my hand as the day dies
feeding on the little nuggets to help me survive;
On days I count focusing my eyes
On my hand as I flip fingers to get to five
reasons that hold my life
hostage to none but the route I decide;
On days I feel how unfair
it is to have no one to blame
my hands fumble finding nothing to claim
except the helplessness that remains;
On days like these I find my truce
in saying life’s playing a fucked up tune
and when it switches to the next track
it better be a song after my own heart.