in a place that does not end.
A body that wears out,
in a universe that does not tire.
We fall in love,
we grieve,
we build homes of wood and laughter,
all while the galaxies wheel above us
like they have for billions of years.
The stars don’t notice.
The earth will go on.
So meaning is not in them,
but here:
in the touch of a hand,
in the courage of hope,
in the choice to rise each morning
knowing how little time
is ours to claim.
