Microcosms

The universe is expanding—

my eyes are wide open and I'm taking all of this in.

August was hard.

I started a new job and I saw two people die.

I told a boy that I loved him.

I lost a friend.

I forgave him.

I tried to forgive myself.

I dreamt about my old life.

Yesterday I threw my phone out of the car window

and finally started writing again.

It only felt right.

Mostly August just felt lonely;

I've changed and I don't know how

to reconcile my new self.

I'm caught between all my versions.

Tonight I felt melancholy

so I drove down Morgantown Rd.

and watched the golden sunset pour through the trees.

Then I sat and cried for two hours.

Sometimes life just feels like one big metaphor.

I'm thinking that maybe God isn't just waiting for me

inside the four walls of a church.

Maybe he's that early-morning stillness –

when the grass is still dewy and fragrant –

when no one else is awake.

Maybe he's the afterglow of a summer thunderstorm.

Maybe it's him that I see everywhere.

Everything is falling apart and coming together

at the same time, but I have more peace tonight

than I've had in the past eight months.

I hope that this is just a taste of what is to come.

So I stop forcing things to be a certain way

and I stop resisting change and I just let go.

Everything is breaking... but strangely I feel like

I am on the brink of something wonderful.

I wonder if the universe feels it too.