The cosmos is always expanding and we are its children of
sparks and riddles.
Expansion is our natural state of being.
In this expansion we find that we have room for everything.
We have space for the many moons of emotion inside of us.
We have space for our hypocrisy and deep longing to do good in this world.
We have space for our rage at immovable systemic oppressions and unbounded hope for future change.
In this expansion we are microscopically small and endlessly impactful, we are the highest sky and the deepest salt-rock bowels. We are everywhere at once, playing in immortal meadows of goldenrod, floating in the crushing black of the sea, riding the wind across unnamed glacial peaks.
We are the very young and the very old, a growing tadpole in a womb, the dust and bones of what is left behind, we are so much more than these precious dirt bodies. We are gone, forgotten, inconsequential, and we are the murmurs, laughter, and song of those who loved us into being.
When we keep expanding ourselves outwards, we remember that we have been here a long time. We reclaim all of the magnitudes we carry inside of us, all of the substances, qualities, places, and time, shifting and tumbling over itself in its many versions of the now, breathing in the infinite textures of All That Is.