IRIS OF STARS

As you inhale –  exhale, contract and expand the oxygen – you push and pull out of your inflated – deflated lungs

Remember, your soul was made out of the contractions of the universe, for you are the every existence of 13.2 billion years summed up in this very second of life

You are the war made of bombs in her ever-expanding stomach,

atomic – explosions of ever imploding moments

And with each kick to the inside of her belly, you send a war of shudders through her spine – forcefully exhaling the life out of her

You are the ins and outs of your mother’s walls, and the expansion and contraction of your mothers breathe

You are the pulls and pushes that birth tensions of gravity fighting against pressure

fusing to create elements of you  

You are hydrogen molecules too infinite to count, 77 million years of them fusing together waiting to go supernova so the very substance of your soul, your heart, your hair, your eyelashes could find each other again

You are the dust that light waves push in all its directions only to recreate the very waves that push you towards ebbs and flows of the universe

You are the static of cosmic radiations radiating through you

Turn on the radio of the cosmic static to remind you that you are the creation of pushes and pulls of fuses and fissions

So feel each part of your soul rivet as the radiation of the big bang runs through you

You are thousands of stars violently exploding, – a million atomic bombs going off at once

You are the 13.2 billion years of the universe expanding, exploding, contracting,

You are the dust of light blowing the dust of carbons, oxygens, and nitrogens

who knew war could create life

When someone tells you are not special,

I want you to look them in the iris of their eyes firmly, and speak with the tongue the universe gave you and say,

The universe spent 13.2 billion tedious years to create me so I can inhale the oxygen it created for me

I am the stardust that exudes out of the universe

I am it’s creation and so are you 

You are the dust made of a star that went supernova responsible for half the carbons in your body

But what you are not is,

whole because there’s still half of you out there,

the rest of your carbons are still there 

in a Giant Red Star dying to meet you again

Because honey when you meet your soulmate, after the separations of explosion,  you are just the fusion of your souls waiting to make a star again