It was caused

It was caused.
Because it wanted to exist.
Because somewhere in its non existing thoughts, it thought it perfect to burst into a million imperfections. Because it understood that the taste of its creation lay in tears raising laughter onto temples and smiles making crying a relief.

And the colors raced and fell into each other, to turn into stars. Stars made out of the stuff of dreams and desires. But then the crumbling light fell out of the sky and turned into poems. You and me, we’re stars.

My fingers holding this flame that quickly spreads throughout my body were put there by the sheer force of movement’s desire. My tears falling onto the paper were carved by the grief of a million broken dreams.

And the breath that we breathe through our eyes every day was caused by the vortex, by the universe that opens up infinitely within all our throats. A calling voice, some luring eyes and the mystery of knowing, have exploded from a speck of dust.

Strip life of all its clothes, and it stands before you as your own reflection; naked desires learning to walk.

And you and me, talking here today, fighting and yelling and thinking and laughing and whispering answers to questions we don’t know, were caused by the need of a fight, to fight for a dream. We were the spit of a scream when that lone speck of nothingness decided to want.