Some days are like this

You are not part of the world

There is a lack of matter, of heft, to everything around you

You too are ethereal, floating in an emptiness that nothing can fill

All that you see is unimportant, trivial, without purpose

All that you know or have learned makes no sense

There is a constant ringing, whistling screech that nobody else can hear

Nobody else in the world cares about you

There is nobody else in the world

You feel nothing

Some days are like this

You are too much of the world

You stand barefoot on morning grass and feel each blade between your toes

A breeze blows and you feel it flow over your face

There is a rose, a red rose, and it lends its heady scent to you

A blizzard of wings bursts behind you and a sparrow flees the earth

Sun warms every cell of you

You connect to the world, sharing your blood and juices with it

You can feel every turning, burning, churning inch of it beneath your feet

You care too much, you love too much

This world is too much

Some days are like this