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May 8, 2006

The Universe

The Universe snuck into my bedroom last night.

I practiced playing my flute on the bed for a long time, a mellifluous breath humming sweetly in my resonant cavities, and then I slept deeply before I was awoken by the howling. I could not tell if it was inside or outside, but it woke me twice. My skin was like satin. Then I saw that the Universe had snuck into my bedroom.

Me: What are you doing here?

Universe: I have come for you.


But I am just a little boy. You frighten me with your galaxies and your nebulae. My body just wants to touch and to be touched. My heart just wants to love and to be loved. My mind just wants to understand and to be understood.

I have important questions: Would the fourth toss mean juggling for eternity? Would playing back to the top of the score mean that the music never ends? Would I lose myself if I became everything? Would I lose control if I became nothing? Can I still be a little boy please?

I stand, eucharistically, as a tiny dot on your event-horizon teetering ephemerally before I plummet to my life. Should I dance on your periphery for a while longer? Please will you sit on the bed and whisper to me gently? Goodnight.

Universe: Goodnight Duncan, sweet dreams.

"Beautiful." — Basi


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