bones and blood of space and time

Listen, lover.

Before you go and try to save the world,

why don't you save yourself first?

Or better still,

peer beneath the veil of your doubt

and remember

you do not need to be saved.

You are made of dirt

but so is the Earth.

We are blood

We are bone

And every place we call home

sings a song beneath our chest.

Open up your throat.

Breathe life into the symphony.

Wash the fear from your eyes

and see the beauty that has been disguised

by a lifetime of suppressing

the truth.

We are by birth right

inherently whole

inseparable

free.

Shake the lie that you were born to die.

Even death is just a womb you pass through

back

into the fabric of space and time

back

into the weaver's hands

back

into the mystery

that forever dons

a new shape.

Some particles,

a tree

a butterfly

a seed.

But for today,

what shape are you?

What symphonies hum through your blood and bones?

Can you make with your body

a home?

Can you sing the songs that make the world whole?

Remember,

a whole is only the sum of its parts

and no matter how small you feel

the world is not whole

without you.