My skin is made of shooting star, my blood is made of wish.
When my heart beats, it plays a drum spiritual warriors dance to.
I am love’s eclipse peaking over the moon in seasons long gone.
I am the return of sacred space when all is left is dust and war.
Perhaps I am too far out there, far enough to high five your dream,
far enough to shake its hands and walk it back to you,
far enough to send a postcard from the astral planes,
far enough to kiss creativity’s golden lotus petals of peace.
I am closer to you than you think,
skin made of Earth, blood of her rumbling,
relative perspective, I am only as far as she is boundless.
I may be there, but I am still here.
In this vast universe light speeds speak,
they say “all that you are close to,
is the God in each other.”
by Kevon Simpson 2014 ©