what if the sun dies?
and I thought about Maine,
and how as a child, I used to tell my mother
“One day, I’m going to be Stephen King’s neighbor.”
my imagination carrying me as the sun shone through the trees, just to land upon my face.
when I am finally welcomed home,
I imagine it will feel just the same…
what if all the bees die?
and I thought about the butterfly sanctuary in my stomach
and how it’s screaming at me
to keep going, already knowing it will lead me
to my hearts desire.
and how one day
I’ll see how all the pieces fit
all the patterns
and coincidences, which Sherlock says aren’t actually coincidences, because the universe is rarely so lazy.
I like to agree
and believe it’s the long journey home
where life will taste like honey…
will the world burn?
is there anything I could do to stop it, anyway?
to extinguish the flames that burn
and ignite the ones that comfort?
it’s a heavy weight to carry
but then I heard the sparrows lovely melody
and I questioned the sound of my voice
until I realized it’s not all my weight to carry
and in that moment
with thoughts of the Maine sun floating behind my eyes
I joined the sparrows in song…