touch the sun

we weren’t there when it started

we won’t know how it all ends,

but these stories in the middle

are the books that we lend

from the library

of the universe and

the book of the whole world—the time

it takes to borrow

is just how long it takes tomorrow

to start again.

for how do we know just how far we run

or how long it takes just to

touch the sun?

for how do we know what becomes of us

when the sun has died

and we return to dust?

before we ever exist

and before we have our breath,

from the stars our lives are molded

and from dust, we defy death.

then we learn to speak

we learn to laugh,

paint the night sky with our songs—the language

of the sunrise

gives us a reason wrapped in disguise

to wake again.

but how do we know just how far we run

or how long it takes just to

touch the sun?

for how do we know what becomes of us

when the sun has died

and we return to dust?