Orbiting planets. Mindlessly roaming the universe, while merely acknowledging the existence of others as we spin off slowly into our own realms. In moments of sadness, we look to the heavens for miracles, traveling incoherently by one another. A curious species succumbed to the notion that there are no miracles to be had in worldly form. Our faith in one another, broken, split in two and hindered on the shadows of suspicion.
Life moves on peculiarly, as worlds fall apart around us. Moments of recognition slow us down, when we are so busy at being full speed ahead, waiting for a bigger sign. Looking away, we are in search of a bigger miracle; a deeper understanding. Blinks of shame, regret, and sorrow flash momentarily, but life starts anew…tirelessly moving forward. That miracle of moving on is forgotten as quickly as it takes to inhale.
Making breathing, mundane, and simple. Until it catches, until it balls up tightly in agonizing pain within the chest walls, begging for release. Pleading for mundane and wishing for normal. A wish granted (and taken for granted) continually throughout the span of our being. The miracle of moving on lost on us.
Devastation punctures thru, throwing our orbiting worlds into a spiral of the uncontrolled. Magnetically grasping the subconscious and blending a sea of faces, making one person’s struggle the effort of many. Universes doubling over night, as the miracle of life becomes fully recognizable. Flashing before us, sporadically, in an effort to remind us why we are thankful, or should be thankful and this too shall pass, as everything has the capability of doing so.
Worlds shatter and life continues to live, it’s a miracle in the making.