Blind hearts.

The blind man
Across the street
Sees more
Than the men around him
Who won’t lend him a hand.
He feels objects
With his fingers,
His ears,
And his anticipation;
And wonders more often
About how beautiful
This life is.
He knows no difference
Between red and blue
And yet tells his daughter
That she looks beautiful
In that black dress of hers.
He thanks you
For every little thing
Because he knows
Gratitude
More than you do.
He doubts himself
More times than not;
But he knows how to
Trust his gut.
He is blind,
And he is across the street.
A street you’d only cross,
If you were blind too.


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You, the universe and stardust.

These are two of my favorite poems.

You may not believe in magic,
But don’t you think it strange,
The amount of matter in our universe,
Has never slightly changed,
That all which makes your body,
Was once part of something more,
And every breath you ever breathe,
Has seen it all before,
There are countless scores of beauty,
In all the things you despise,
It could have once been a shooting star,
That now makes up your thighs,
And atoms of forgotten life,
Who’ve long since ceased to roam,
May now have the great honour,
To call your crooked smile their home,
You may not believe in magic,
But i thought you should know,
The makings of your heart were born,
Fourteen billion years ago,
So next time you feel lonely,
When this world makes you feel small,
Just remember that it’s a part of you,
And you’re part of it all.                                              – e.h

We have calcium in our bones,
Iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls,
And nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust,
With souls made of flames,
We are all just stars
That have peoples names.                                       – Nikita Gill


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