Words, colours, and songs.

How to give a word,
to the moment when the world shrank and pulled me into its core,
both strangulation and tender embrace?

How to describe the colours,
when I had never noticed the breath the infinity was taking,
until it was let go,
and the parts that made it whole were set free into an expanse that couldn't be called a 'world' any longer?

And is there a song for the sound,
the one where the noise only exists in the silence that follows?
Here the echo,
I heard the echo,
louder the second time than the first.

And in trying to make sense of this nonsensical place,
the only clarity seems to be,
that no words, colours, or songs are adequate descriptions for its existence.

A Little Bit of Heart in a Big World of the Human Relationship Economy

The price of a little bit of heart:

Seemingly unadjusted with inflation in a market which to my growing perspective is simultaneously increasingly sparse and populated,

And yet the debt of its loss seems entirely equivalent.

And it makes me wonder,

Is the free market of human connectedness truly liberating,

or crippling,

or both?

This particular breath.

This particular breath came from a different breeze.

A touch of something without a name,
A song that inspired hesitation;
Something in the air that pulls my gaze from the future to the present.

At the top of the breath I wait for it to give itself an identity,
But it remains nameless,
And I wonder how long I can live inside this breath.

Not long, I find,
And I must give this borrowed breath back to the universe.

A letter to the infinity.

A great breath of the universe filling my lungs;
An infinite expanse in a finite space.
Dear universe, how do you fit inside me?

A great breath of love and pain,
of the beautiful and repulsive,
of greed and heart,
all clearly distinct from each other in my mind,
and yet indistinguishable entities as the breath enters my lungs.
Dear universe, what are you made of?

After my breath the universe remains whole,
and I wonder whether these elements of the infinity in my breath could be counted as my breaths can be counted.
Dear universe, will you miss the beauty I took in that breath?

Infnite but counted,
all one and the same yet each part distinct and unique.
Dear universe, you are so much greater than me,
and yet I am a part of your infinity and this makes me wonder,
whether I too am a breath.