maelynslavik

Words can be insignificant,

Simple and small,

With letters boringly built up,

Written in unflattering scrawl.

Yet

There are words so delicate,

So precariously arranged,

Their syllables just might fall,

I look at myself in the mirror,

Seeing every little detail of myself:

The eyes that have learned to seek creativity,

The mouth that has learned to leak laughter,

I trace my fingertips over my skin,

Imagining everything going on within it:

Each little protein being made,

Each cell passing through my bloodstream.

Every strand of DNA is coiled up,

Making me up,

Numbers:

Simple little things,

Tiny scratches on paper,

Spelling out equations,

Formulas to the universe.