by elizabeth urdiales
To many a man, man is but flesh and bone
But to the Earth and sky, we are infinite beings, comprised of millions of years of stardust and old hopefuls, dusted through our bodies.
To many a folk, we don't deserve the best.
But we deserve the world. We deserve our laid paths, ones we've built before us, new and uncertainly making their ways towards a foggy future, wanting whats great.
To the rest of the universe, we seem small
And truth be told we are. Miniscule, yet massive, we are apart of something so large and in return we are the largest we can be, infinite, and unending.
This, to put it shortly, is the story of We
The story of Us, beings created under stars and on deepened Earth, the story of Many, the creation of Man and the truth of our hope to be great.
We are small, yet infinite.
We deserve the best, and take what we create for ourselves. Smaller things call us God, and yet we know better. We are forgers of Us.
We are Human