It was twilight all day.
Sometimes the smallest things weigh us down,
small stones that we can't help
admiring and palming.
Look at the tiny way
this lighter vein got inside.
Look at the heavy gray dome of its sky.
This is no immutable world.
We know less than its atoms, rushing through.
Light, light. Light as air, to them,
for all we know. Trust me on this one,
there is happiness at stake.
Boulder, grain. Planet, dust:
What fills the stones fills us.
I remember, or I have a feeling,
I could be living somewhere with you,
weighted down the way we aren't now.
Often the greatest things,
those you'd think would be the heaviest,
are the very ones that float.