You are the universe

Can you taste the frosty and quiet stillness of the tiny particles that mesh together underneath fogs of cream, the way clouds resting in the troposphere do? 

Or can you feel the breathtakingly cold rush of air that wraps around your tiny body as you glide above broccoli painted landscapes and midnight soaked oceans of the unknown, the way birds do? 

Or can you endure the snatch and dig of a barbaric lion's teeth as it sinks into your flesh eating you to death, the way fearful zebras in depths of the jungles of Africa do?

You don't ever think of the taste of the particles of the clouds in the troposphere and how cold they rest in the ozone layer

And you don't imagine the sights of broccoli painted landscapes and midnight soaked oceans miles above the ground your two feet rest on

Nor do you wonder of the pain zebras endure when their limbs are snatched, or the fear of antelopes as they hide from the king of the jungle, a jungle fourteen countries north from you in a bamboo flavored rainforest

When the rain begins to fall and snowflakes dance across your windshield, and play along with your snowmen, you never ask yourself about the loneliness within the trees that grieve the loss of their leaves, turning numb underneath the cold that wraps around their lean trunks, like hands around a neck before murder

Loneliness as leaves fall in the winter is the splotchy red pain of trees, but your pain only comes in navy blue. So how could you possibly imagine what splotchy red pain is like?

Glistening raindrops are tapping against the concrete forming pools of liquid curiosity on the ground

Is the pain you feel the only pain you care for? Is the pain you feel the only pain you know?

Why do we share a planet? Why are you sharing your planet?

Why are the clouds above me so close to me, and why do the trees share the same ground I rest on, and the birds flap their wings to the rhythm of my beating heart, and the ants that walk alongside my moving legs play with the shadow of my steps and feed on my crumbs

Why do I share this planet with seven billion different human beings, dipped in bright golden hair to presty orange locks and dark faces and warm skin tones

Why do I share this planet with seven billion different human beings If I am only living for one?

Why do I share this planet with all kinds of animals and reptiles and amphibians and fish and whales and trees and grass and flowers

If all I can smell is the same little bottle of perfume I spray my neck with everyday, and the few familiar olfactory particles that follow me around, and if all I can see are the lines on the inside of the palms of my own two hands, and the distance lying before the steps I am about to take, and if all I can think of are my four single thoughts, and if all i can hear is the sound of my own conscience, and if all i can feel is what is inside me

Be one with the world around you and escape the individualistic bubble you have created for yourself that isolates you from the universe you are part of.

You and the dirt on the leaves of trees are one. Do not think any different.

You are not greater than the clouds above you, or cleaner than the dirt below you, or smarter than the frogs in the ponds you pollute, or more worthy than the same set of eyes and beating heart multiplied by billions around you.

You and your universe are one.