universal is a word that has never made sense because there is so much universe to see, how could you even encompass it all? how could you find something that fills the whole universe, how could you? you are small in the face of the sky, you are tiny, you are nearly nothing. you are a mass of tiny almost-nothings, a mass of atoms and cells and organs and bone. the universe is vast, and the universe is wide and cold and full of stars and dust and the explosions of planets in the far reaches of it, in the future, in the past. (did you know that the light from stars takes millions of years to travel to our tiny corner? did you know when we look in space, we look back in time?) the universe is vast and the universe does not control you. astrology will not control you. you are a tiny thing, masses of atoms and bone, and you are nothing compared to the universe, but you are not small.  you are not universal. you are much more than that. you are mornings and evenings and nights; nights staying up with too much coffee and mornings waking up too early and watching the sun pull itself above the trees and evenings staring at your ceiling. you are a tiny thing, but you have scaled mountains, forded rivers; you are you are you are. you are red lipstick and old flannel, you are kissing girls and kissing boys and kissing no one, you are words pouring out into old blank notebooks and doodles on coffee shop napkins; you are everything you have ever loved and everything you have ever hated. you are breathless. you are whole. (but you are not universal.) you are late nights and too many words and hands cramped from typing but you type anyway, you can’t afford not to, if you don’t get these words on the wind it’s like the wind wraps around you and chokes you -- it’s like the wind aches for your words too and you don’t know how to stop it, like a leaking drippy faucet, like a goddamn river flowing; you are words and you are full and you are whole. but you are not universal.

steferogers >> rqmanoff