I like wearing cardigans which are full of fraying holes,
Feeling like I’m tangled up in a fragment of my own soul.
I love listening to music so loud while driving that I forget I’m alone;
That despite how many people I know, I’m really just on my own.
I love reading books so big that they go on forever,
Threading parts of myself into the story to keep things together;
Thinking that living within prose is a worthy endeavour.
I like talking for hours to someone who really knows me,
Understanding that in those moments there’s no I or you, just we.
I love caring for someone with no expectation of reward;
Hoping that they will silently appreciate it and just pay that gesture forward.
I like knowing that I’m not the only one on this planet,
Even if people can’t see past themselves and begin to fathom this.
Thinking that their needs are the only thing they have to manage;
All the world is a stage and they are the star of it.
Most of all I love the way I can look up to the stars,
Watching the lights pulse and flicker as I ponder what really is ours.
Hoping that one day the earth will no longer be covered in scars.
And we can all look at each other with love having learnt the lessons sent from our ancestors.