A slow pull into nothing,
They sink away into distant space,
And my arm goes with them
In a straining reach to draw them back.
But my arm only stretches and stretches
Into spaghetti linking shoulder to wrist.
I can’t touch the heart of the rain, it can only touch me
As it slips right through my fingers
Where a liquid hand can’t be held.
And the rain may have a beat but it’s too soft and quick
To be human and too rhythmic to be alive.
The rain never stutters or skips a beat
And I can dance in it but it can’t dance with me.
I can speak a soliloquy and pretend the rain is listening
But it can never confess a single secret back to me.
The rain may smell like a breath or a familiar comfort
But the rain is everything that has ever felt lonely.
You are a chapter of significance enclosed in the story of me,
That was the chapter, and
Sometimes I write words and reread them
And struggle to find who wrote them.
Maybe my poems will never be read by you
Because I didn’t write them for you to read.
You are a mystery I will never solve because I am no detective
And I will never perfectly write you
Because you are not the one I am supposed to perfectly write.
You will always be significant,
Because you are teetering on the edge,
You are a question until I stop asking
But I am deciding to let it remain unanswered.
You say we ended
While still in the middle,
But if it’s over
Wasn’t that the end?
We’re in the middle of our lives
The middle of our growth
The middle of our timeline
In the middle of learning both
Who we are with each other and on our own.
I don’t know who I am yet
How can I ever expect to know who you are?
I recently read a book called ‘The Happy Brain’ by Dean Burnett, which discusses the science behind what happiness is and where it comes from in the brain. It was slightly overwhelming with all the science talk but also very interesting, and I got a lot out of it. So here are my top 20 things I learned from the book, that only skims the surface of what makes the brain happy.
I got used to the way
The wind in the chimneys
Sounded like ghosts.
You get used to all the things
That scare you
When they’ve happened
So many times
Yet got no further than
Seeing a place where I spend all my time from above or the outside, really shows me just how small and insignificant I am. I am just a speck. But if every speck is insignificant and I am a speck in a cluster of insignificances, yet together we are significant…