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.