. . . go out into the evening,
    leaving your room, of which you know each bit,
    your house is the last before the infinite, . . .
    (from Rainer Maria Rilke's "Eingang", MacIntyre translation)
  
The light which strikes my retina
as I look at the Great Galaxy in Andromeda
left there two million years ago.
(Hominids made tools from stone then, but had not yet    
    learned the use of fire.
Genetic material from certain of these hominids has been passed
from one being to another and now is in my own body.)
  
Millennia from now, humans who have
colonized the farthest reaches of our galaxy,
laboriously creating and maintaining Earth-like atmospheres,
will marvel that there once was a place so perfectly suited to
    human life
that such labor was unnecessary. (Just as we marvel that orchids,
whose precise temperature and humidity requirements would seem to necessitate a greenhouse, grow wild in the Amazon.)
  
I cannot believe in a personal God,
intervening in human affairs, but stand in awe
of the terrible force which set the stars and galaxies in motion
--strewing them like so much confetti--;
the life-force running through each living creature,                                              
as straight and true as a ray of light from that galaxy in Andromeda,
willing us to live, grow and be fruitful.

Mothers celebrated
Mothers gave us life.
They breathed into our lungs our first cry of existence.
Showers of praise to the years of giving that she has given us.
Such is Beauty. A sweet cake cut pieces from like a knife.
We owe to her respect
We honor her and mothers who have past
Through carrying on her legacy and messages
A magic energy forever cast.
As we celebrate on this day the honor that she deserves 
All year long
Blessed are we to have her in our lives and in our hearts
A sweet love who had brought us in the world and she protected and directed us.
Cheers to her, the sweet and beautiful lady, forever celebrated in our hearts.

Don’t ask what time it is,
don’t ask what I think about the president,
do you understand this life you have is a miracle,
please let’s dismiss all the small talk,

you don’t have to tell me anything,
we can just be and do whatever we want,
maybe we’re Gods,
maybe we’re not,
we can be whatever we want as long as it’s honest,

and honestly,
usually when I’m out publicly,
and people are taking to me,
I see the words but I don’t hear what they’re saying,

people say I’m in my own world,
that I orbit my own planet,
shout to K. Dot from two Planets away,
see when it’s real we feel it,

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I stand in front of thousands of people, and I don’t know them, but I do know you...

When I was ten years old I wanted to be in the Olympics, an athletes dream in front of millions of people I don’t know. But I know you.

I stood on the podium, a stage of glory and pride for my country, medal around my neck, as the national anthem plays through my ears I begin to remember that I was gonna be a soldier.

At 14 years old I told you I wanted a badge or a medal, a uniform to wear, and something to fight for. And here I am standing on this stage about to receive recognition for my job.

And 15 year old me standing on a stage in front of thousands of people, with a guitar strapped around my body. And I’m singing a song I wrote, and only you know why I wrote it. The secrets I don’t tell the public are told to the people I really do trust in this world.

And yet here I am on a stage in front of people I don’t know.

Do you remember? I told you that you didn’t need to be remembered by the whole world by putting your name on a star in the sky. The sky doesn’t need another star, but Earth has it’s own star with your name on it, and it’s you.

And you don’t need to be remembered by thousands of people to be happy, you just needed me to remember you when I stand here.

You asked me to never forget you if I ever became famous. And I’m not famous. But you should be, you’re the star remember. You believed in me, told me I was worth something, enough to be here on this stage. So why aren’t you here? You are worth remembering, so why don’t you want to be famous? Why don’t you want to be on stage? I have a constant fear of never being remembered and you don’t want to be that person. Why do you not want to be on this stage? I want you here. I need you here.

I stand on a stage in front of people. Most of them, I do not know. I don’t remember why I’m on the stage anymore… But I know that you’re proud of me for whatever reason that might be.

I remember saying some sort of speech to these people, and suddenly you’re here. I can see you in the crowd, and you’re smiling. You seem so happy to see me here, almost as if you were on the stage beside me. And I wish you were. But I know you don’t need to be remembered by these people, but I remember you.

And when my speech comes to a close I say this: “Thank you, to the star in life who never made it to the sky, I just want you to know in this moment. That we made it!