…lead by your beating heart.
"Despite what you’ve read, your sadness is not beautiful. No one will see you in the bookstore, curled up with your Bukowski, and want to save you.
Stop waitingfor a salvation that will not come from the grey-eyed boy looking for an annotated copy of Shakespeare,
for an end to your sadness in Keats.
He coughed up his lungs at 25, and flowery words cannot conceal a life barely lived.
Your life is fragile, just beginning, teetering on the violent edge of the world.
Your sadness will bury you alive, and you are the only one who can shovel your way out with hardened hands and ragged fingernails, bleeding your despair into the unforgiving earth.
Darling, you see, no heroes are coming for you. Grab your sword, and don your own armor."
the moment you realize
that your bones are made of the same dust
as the planets,
your lungs are breathing the same air
as the migrating butterflies,
and your blood is pumping because
of the love and care of thousands;
is when you realize
that you are not as broken
as you think you are.
you are full
of the world.