In relation to a universe so infinitely huge, we and everything we know are almost, almost infinitely small. In relation to this fantasmorphicalous but infinitely small earth, suspended in an infinitely vast universe -
how much of the things we struggle with holds space?
not our jealousies not the things we can't look past of colours and thoughts we were taught to have not our momentary sadness not our hurts not our anger not our inabilities not our disappointments our setbacks not the things we have not the number of dollar bills not the way our face hair body looks not our relationships not this moment not the things we hope not our fears.
what really holds space?
this, the white dot, is us.
you who make your lives on that tiny speck:
we live, for one flurry of a moment, in a tiny dot..
What would you do to make this moment count?
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