Annotated By Stardust
I don’t follow paths.
I follow pulses,
flickers of something ancient
braided into breath,
in dirt and ash,
in the sound of my name spoken by wind.
I don’t belong to religion,
but I kneel for small things:
a leaf that trembles before falling,
a thought that won’t let go,
a life that insists on blooming
through rubble.
I rather believe
the universe dreams through us—
creates, forgets, remembers,
again and again.
And when I pause long enough to listen,
I hear it
in grief that glows,
in love that ruins me gently,
in the ordinary.
Annotated
by stardust.