We Live in Miniature Form

You cannot see me,
but I flutter in your chest –
I memorize the map
of your veins
and travel to every unexplored
corner of you.
With a surge of need
and want
and belief
and courage –
with the knowledge
that this is not the world,
as we know it.

It is a distant land
which we have come to know.
Who or what has transported us here?
We must either leave
or transform the forgotten
landscape into a version of home –
where our fingers touch
and our words flow freely –
where the beginning of you
reaches me, like light.

We are years ahead of all of this.
Trapped inside a bottle,
we live in miniature form –
not wanting to remain contained
by glass and cork.

We Live in Miniature Form

We rise, only to slip and fall
when touching the walls.
“Let me out,” you say.
“Let me in,” say the voices
of those just arriving.
“We hear you’ve built a boat.”