i can't help but feel sad
over all the people i'll never get to meet.
never feel the calloused hands that have turned the earth inside and out
never see the eyes of those who have chased the sun, moon, and stars
never trace the constellations they weave in their heads.
this world is overrun with beautiful souls
but not enough me-
why can't i have more hands to hold the ones stretching out to me?
why can't i have more legs to carry me further across?
let me meet them halfway
between "what i know" and "what i could know."
let me go
i beg of you
please let me go.
*there are so many beautiful souls
but not enough me-- not enough me.*
so instead i will embrace the bodies before me
i will hold out my frail hands
and read theirs like they're the last book i'll ever read.
i will be afraid to blink
in hopes of watching every sunset they extend.
i will carry their hearts wherever i go
and wear their lives through each season.