If the world is against you
Don't worry, my child
These difficult moments
Will make you grow up
Cry, suffer
Then recover yourself
At the end you will reach
The day you're strong

I somehow feel the need to apologize.
Still.
After all this time.
You sang like I was made of the earth and the wind
The lovely things.
And when I said those three words for the first time
And you repeated them...
My heart stopped and my soul flew.
I was ready to give up my freedom and my future for you...
Then you say we're growing apart,
You tell him that you never loved me, don't like girls, dated me out of pity
And I cried for five hours straight while my heart broke and my mind screamed
'I told you I'm not a girl.'
Labor day isn't the same even all these years later.
I still have to tell myself it's not my fault.

You were on fawns legs,
The who am I what I am where do I fit that comes with adolescence
And you spoke me fair from the moment we met.
I was so happy to finally have someone who saw me for me.
I told you so soon
'I'm not a girl, I know it's hard to understand but...'
And you say you don't care, nothing changes, I see stars in your eyes
And I'm so happy to hold your hand in the hallway,
No matter who stares.
I should expect the backtracking. The fear.
Your parents, who knows what they'd do.
And you break it off quietly.
Saying you don't think you really like girls.
I am still not a girl.
We don't really talk now. I just find it hard to feel anything but tired when I'm near you.

Then you. You are a girl made of startuff.
Your heart among the planets and constellations.
I call you starshine and eventually
I hope. I ask. I confess.
I admit I planned my life with you.
Big city apartment, stargazing far away from life,
Leaving small town made of quicksand for higher hills and brighter skies.
And you were the only one who ever called me by my name.
Called me a boy.
Gave me anything that felt real.
And I know it hurt you to hurt me.
I gave you my heart and you treated it as tenderly as you could have.
I don't fault you for that. I don't fault you for anything.
No matter what you make me feel real
And I always have loved the stars.

Astral architecture hangs on the balance of my once fragile mind, now unbound and open to the potential of the Penrose Stairs that I climb. Infinity, I thought, was an innate idea man was not meant to understand, because if the universe is in fact infinite, into what does it expand?

Standing at the precipice of epiphany, teetering at the very cusp of clarity, it came to me in a monumental moment of sibylline singularity:

It expands into itself.

The thought was too profound to perceive, too ravenous to be satiated. Could this be at long last, the answer for which I have waited?

I realized that consciousness operates under a similar uniformity: the brain won't outgrow the head, but the mind will outgrow the body, and our echoes will radiate across the endlessness of existence, for all our forgotten frequencies are oblivious to the concept of distance.

We are all limitless beneath the veil of this perceived reality,
but only there are we human, and only then are we free.

We spend our whole life
Trying to fit into a solid ground.
But perhaps we're like the ocean
And our waves
Cannot be tamed.