Under the sky that covered the infinite, lay a heart so different and unlike it.
My heart barely supports living, and I barely live.
What’s worse than death, you ask?
A life where death is wished for.
I’ll collect my tears and knock on clouds; “this is all I have, what’s the price for Heaven?”
I return to you guilty and degraded, and I feel like an apology is due.
I have left you by choice, with a sense of superiority, and I return with my head hiding between my shoulders in an aura of shame.
My excuses are weak, and I ask humbly; I do not demand.
I beg you not to turn away your ungrateful child, even though you have the power and every right to do so.
You have accepted me when I wanted nothing but to leave you, please accept me when I want nothing but to pay you back.
Let this stranded soul find its place again.
I was once a nurtured tree, my top reaching the clouds, and my roots grounded firmly, and I have fallen trying to find a better place. I became an example of greed to you, and of wretchedness to the other gardens.
What have I learned in my little journey?
That the enormous universe feels so lonely without a place that accepts you unconditionally, where you belong as a fact.
The options are infinite, and I choose the sun that has always felt so hot, the air that has always felt so dry, and my little place there where my dry burnt skin belongs.