There is a place.
Between droplets of years shouting that you can’t and your minds bad advice.
Look there. In the breath of the breaths.
Who is breathing?
Who is carrying you through the days of bricks falling on your shoulders?
Stop listening to the tales of yesterday and the stories of tomorrow.
Why are you still listening at all my friend?
Have you not grown tired of being right or wrong or anything at all?
Show me the space you are telling me about.
It escapes me every time I look.
Now stop looking for signs of the universe
You are she and she is you