I’m falling through the worlds
an act of trust in gravity, play, soft grass.
Falling through sounds
falling through hot, falling through cold,
lost in the smell of your hair.
And if it seems ungrateful,
to hold onto something so slight
when I have been shown the Universe,
well, that’s me.
a hair’s breadth from the miraculous,
a whisper away from true love,
the smell of your hair
mixed in my breath.