The universe leaves clues in lowercase
A grain of sand
inside my sandal
and I suddenly remember
how stars die into dust.
That I’m walking on stardust
and complaining.
The ants know something we don’t.
Their roads are invisible
but they follow them like scripture.
I can’t even follow my own thoughts
without checking my phone.
There’s a spider web in the corner of the balcony.
Perfect geometry,
unplanned architecture.
I watch the wind tear it apart,
and she begins again.
No crying.
Just silk.
At 2am I hear an owl call once,
and wait for the reply.
It never comes.
Not every message needs an answer
to mean something.
The moon was c