They say everything is recorded.
\nEvery birth certificate,
\nthought,
\nwave on the shore,
\na woman\u2019s hand touching her child\u2019s face,
\natoms dancing on the head of a pin.
\nMy forgotten list of things to do,
\nminutiae and the explosion of stars,
\nthe Sistine Chapel and paint
\nthat fell to the floor.<\/p>\n
And why?
\nWhy does the universe
\npile up ledgers of things that happened,
\nshould have happened,
\nparallel universes,
\nand universes so thin,
\natoms fall through them?
\nI don\u2019t know and it\u2019s not telling.
\nBut perhaps it\u2019s a kind of eternity,
\nof life,
\nof reverence for the important.
\nThe love between parents and children.
\nThe bond between friends.
\nThe poem that listens and tells.<\/p>\n
So it means,
\nor seems to mean,
\nthe universe has a soul.
\nNot a bookkeeper,
\nbut a non-judgmental heart
\nthat wants nothing to end,
\nand infinite new beginnings.
\nAs if it can\u2019t get enough of love,
\nand never throws away its tears.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
They say everything is recorded. Every birth certificate, thought, wave on the shore, a woman\u2019s hand touching her child\u2019s face, atoms dancing on the head…<\/p>\n