The answer is -

The universe,
Its origins unknown, and so the end
In its ever expanding conscious
With all its suns, and seas, and sand,
More than that.

My fear,
Dark and deep, unending abyss
Layers upon layers of broken trusts
Loves gone amiss,
More than that.

Your anger,
Red, then scarlet, then crimson
Blood pooling around my open wound
A battle against fission,
More than that.

But,
Apparently not enough.

And after it all ends
Turning into sawdust
Have courage, dear heart
Cause even though
You expected the worst
Broken things do hurt.

There was an old person of Pisa,
Whose daughters did nothing to please her;
She dressed them in gray,
And banged them all day,
Round the walls of the city of Pisa.

I decided to ride the slide sideways

Letting my feet hang over

And one edge guide my neck

I went straight down for a second or two

But with my eyes to sky
I didn't worry

Rather, I just enjoyed the view

In Florida sometimes it rains so hard
that you believe that it can't possibly stop,
that it will just rain and rain forever.

Sometimes I'd wake to a storm late at night,
and I'd sit out on the porch.

You could smell the lightning, and the coolness of the storm would
make your hair stand;
I'd feel so alive.

Some nights I'd go out, and my father
would be sitting on the porch already.
Lost in the storm
or maybe
called to it.
We wouldn't talk,
but we'd be lost together
in the rain and thunder.

Sometimes I wonder what of him
is left in me.
I am not sure
if I am more afraid of there being
very little
or of there being a great deal,
but when it rains
I think about him on that porch;

I lift my head to look at
you but you were
already looking at me