My heart is so small
it’s almost invisible.
How can You place
such big sorrows in it?”
“Look,” He answered,
“your eyes are even smaller,
yet they behold the world.
I am a writer,
Writer of fictions,
I am the heart that you call home,
And I’ve written pages, upon pages,
Trying to rid you from my bones.
I am a part of all that I have met.
You are something that the whole universe is doing, in the same way that a wave is something that the whole ocean is doing.
Committee: A group of the unwilling, picked from the unfit to do the unnecessary.