There you are. Were you lost
In the blue reaches of what could be?
It is no small thing to be one
Little person in our many-colored
Cosmos. Seedling, a high destiny
Awaits you. Now you are down
In the dust, sighing skyward for hope
Of a savior. But what is dust
But an opportunity? Wrap yourself
In it. It’s time to grow. There is no earth
That will not nourish. There are no stones
Too dry that you cannot draw water.
Make lights to rival the sky’s. How
Else will you wreath your head in blooms?
A true queen will crown herself. Worm,
Wriggle in the dark. What is the dark
Except creation’s cradle? Build wings there.
It’s time you flew. But you knew
That already. That head full of dreams
Dreams on, until all its whorls and veins
Build a heart. That’s the most important
Part. The art is in the arteries. Get
The blood flowing. Go, give that heart
Away. It never belonged to you
Anyway. This is a universe full of
Seeds, after all. It’s your turn to do
Some tending. The making of it
All cannot be done by one pair of hands.
So what do you think you’re doing,
Shaking off all that dust? You are
Meant to use it. Take these sorrowful
Threads and weave a brighter dress.
Meet each murmuring morning
With trumpets of yes, yes, yes.