The earth spins, oblivious to the singular orbit
of my own heart.
Its grand narratives unfold, stories whispered
on winds that do not solely carry my name.
I am a universe contained,
galaxies swirling within skin and bone.
My sun rises and sets
according to an internal clock,
a rhythm felt only by me.
The world exists, a stage vast and varied,
but my performance is for an audience of one.
My applause, my tears, my understanding –
these echo within the chambers of my own soul.