some people feel so hollow at times
that it seems as if even stardust could pass
through their tissue-paper bones.
or perhaps they feel as if they are made of glass,
fragile and ready to break in an instant,
yet invisible at first glance.
every one of us, at some point in our lives,
will move like ghosts through empty rooms
and no one will notice our passing.
in this way humans are like abandoned houses:
we may still be standing,
but there will always be a certain part of us missing-
a table, a chair, perhaps even a writing desk.
we may be wrecked and torn and bruised;
our beams may be crumbling and our doors
may be falling off their hinges.
it is possible that no one will ever set foot inside us
and like this we may be tucked away in a corner of nowhere,
unseen, hidden, quietly blooming until next year.
but we must always remember that no matter where we are,
no matter how painfully small and alone we may feel,
our windows and doors
will always be open
and the light will pour through them
like water through cupped hands.