Precious

Precious

By Julia Pilkington ’17

They say the world is made of atoms,

That life’s greatest moments are in the little things.

But what do they do? What do they make?

And why is it so astounding when they start to shake?

Perhaps it’s because when they cluster, they smash as well,

And suddenly a branch is now a tree and a river now a sea.

Infinities of popping microscopic universes,

Building, changing, evolving civilizations of cells,

Commandeering electrons and stacking nuclei until

The diatom shimmers, a diamond in the sand.

And all the undulating racetracks rush in the bubble,

As it clicks to join another free floating bubble

And without popping,

They harden into shells of sappy amber, trapped in time

Yet alluring the next building block to be sugarcoated

Out of fragility…slowly, they stack up, bead by bead.

Swirling in silent humming harmonies to craft a home

For the zinging darts of ideas and threads for their connections.

Inside the wave, a silk soul slips

Into a patient wait as the beads break into bits of stardust

That sparkle as they mark where your heart will go

And melt their light to create the sound of your voice.

In a climactic rush, the remnants of the Milky Way

Wrap a crystalline shield around that heart and brain,

And when the glittering body has safely encased the sleeping soul,

Drops of the sky fall and their slipper trails wash it all clean,

Softening the shell to gentle skin.

In the whistling wind, the rain sinks in

And the Lord whispers the first breath

Into the awakening lungs.

The ideas burst up, all too eager to race already

And ignite their fiery highways and coattails ablaze.

Thus, if ever you think you do not matter,

Remember this:

You are matter and you matter for this.

You are a soul the world will only know once.

And the only ingredients of your every nerve, cell and particle

Are the atoms of stars.

Which makes you, in the very least, precious.

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