The earth moves. We all know this. We all know we're spinning through some vast expanse of empty space at impossible speeds. Shooting, rotating. Flying. But sometimes the entire fucking earth moves, and you can feel it. Not because of some broken laws of physics. Because of somebody's eyes.
What I don't understand, is how the entire earth could move, and you couldn't feel it.
Because it shook me. My breath rattled in my lungs. My eyes descended. Shaken.
You didn't feel that? How could you miss it?
We all like to hope, once in a while, that the words falling on our battered eardrums mean something different than what we hear of them. We all like to make excuses. We all like to take "I don't love you," and "I'm just lonely" and throw them away. Throw them right away. To believe that maybe, even if someone says those things, if the earth fucking just moved how could they be true? To hope. Even though we've been told there's nothing to hope for, over and over again.
I look in your eyes and I feel platelets shift beneath an ocean under my feet. I feel Pangea. I feel the echoes of the first word, I feel the stardust in my bones. I feel history. I feel the magic in the world that science could never explain. I feel connected to everything that has ever been. In that one small moment, everything makes sense.
It's not enough to call you baby. It's not enough to say the words "I love you." Even if they weren't rejected, they still wouldn't be enough. No, "I need you" isn't even enough. Your eyes make me remember that the world is not scientists, or philosophers, or theologists. Your eyes make me remember that the world is magic. It's not enough to say I can't do without you. I must do without you. But thank you for sharing that glimpse with me.
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