Pulverized

The little things happen when all else is pulverized, the big things close up and crumble

Into the dust of space

The little bits that are a part of the nebulous universe, the atoms that form the core of your very existence

The finest thing is so very small, minute, that even one syllable , one sound, one is not enough to make you feel the immense weight of small

The little things that make you weep and laugh and cry and feel so very alive

It’s hard to imagine without describing the air that collided with salt and sea

Feet full of sand

Hot warmth full of sound

Music only you can feel

Tiny things that are not and will be

I looked behind me and saw the moon, dipped in blurry deep blue

I looked in front,

The sun was dipped in dark, broken yolk

Blood orange and yellow

All I could hear was your voice

Dipping into my throat for small moments

The sound of a broken glass in the sea

Roaring, sailing, crying

Salty, desperate, angry, alive

The little beauty of being alive when you were abused so badly, in so many little ways

It’s enough to make you want more than life.