I’m falling through the worlds
backwards
an act of trust in gravity, play, soft grass.

Falling through sounds
and colours,
falling through hot, falling through cold,
lost in the smell of your hair.

And if it seems ungrateful,
to hold onto something so slight
(hair, smell)
when I have been shown the Universe,
well, that’s me.

Small, slight,
a hair’s breadth from the miraculous,
a whisper away from true love,
the smell of your hair
mixed in my breath.

.