Sometimes, this life is too big for me
both fettered and floating
its edges just beyond my fingertips.
These are the times I reach deep into my pocket
pulling out the tiny, soft things I love most
the fuzzied motes within which
my life finds balance and meaning.
too small for cosmic microscopes
too rich to be ignored.
Resting my head upon my daughter's chest
her heart magically beating
White toast bathed with creamy peanut butter
deep pools sunk into its yeasty surface
That single note of a great song
the one that breaks and heals my heart again
The first bite of a perfect pear
its sweetness dribbling happily towards my chin
The unapologetic joy of boys playing football after dark
their shouts drifting through my bedroom window
A look exchanged in silence
one that speaks of understanding
These are not the moments of great literature
but rather the gentle anchors
that keep my boat from listing.
These are the sparks that fire me
in this joyful, small life I'm living
infinitesimal and unknowable
lived against the backdrop
of the enormous unknown.
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