Small

I am too small. Sometimes I just want to look at the world, but I am so small. I am too small to take it all in, too small to comprehend the beauty right in front of me. Too small to open my eyes wide enough and see. I don’t want to care. God, I don’t want to care so badly, but I do, and I’m too small to understand the beauty that’s so entangled in my caring. I don’t feel real. I don’t feel substantial. Everything floats around endlessly in my mind; in between my fingers and through my toes like mud or maybe water, or maybe something just beyond my comprehension because I am so small, and the world is so beautiful, and I can’t understand it. I am standing here, and my mind and heart, and body are all so full of this moment, of the beauty of now, that I think I could die. And beauty and life seem so short, but they're both timeless, and will never end with me. Will never start with me. Will never be more a part of me than they are now, and I will never be more beautiful than I am now, and this world will never be as endlessly inexplicable as it is right now. And I feel so grateful, and happy to be a part of it, and yet so unexplainably empty, because no one will ever see this moment through my eyes, and no one else will ever know how unreasonably heartbreaking this is, and I want to share it with someone. I want to give this moment to them, so maybe they, too, will understand how small I am. How blinding the world is. How irrationally amazing it is to be a part of something like this. Like now. Like forever. And forever will go on with out us; this beauty will last longer than we can even think about, because we are just too small.