I get caught up
Sometimes
Thinking about the fact
That space is infinite.
I send my self hurdling out there
Past super novas, star dust, galaxies and moons,
Struggling to conceive what that edge may be if I found one.
And become overwhelmed
And scared
And small
And wonder, who needs that much room?
I am comforted and comfortable
With my 8 and half by eleven tract of land.
More than enough space to contain my self
And my thoughts.
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