Fairy Dust

The universe doesn't care about us.

We are nothing but specs of dirt on it's cosmic shoe.

So we sit, we wait, we hold on for a day the universe decides to be kind.

But what if we didn't have to?

What if the universe didn't effect what we do?

What if we simply said, "Screw this!" and went along our way.

Would the universe care then?

Would we become something more than dirt?

If we give ourselves power, if we make our own success, what can the universe do?

So what, karma has no power over me.

So what, my fate isn't written in the stars.

We could become something more, for ourselves.

We tell stories of fairies and magic.

We say that there is no limit to our own abilities.

So we make it true.

 

We work every night and day for an answer, a seemingly magic result.

Questions are around every corner, and answers rarely appear, but that doesn't stop us.

We become the fairies in the stories, we make the magic, we extend our abilities.

The world becomes brighter, kinder.

People control themselves, and are better than before.

The world heals itself as we now have power to help people.

There is no death, no pain, no darkness.

Our minds are clear.

Our hearts are pure.

Our hands are clean of sin and evil.

Nothing stands in the way of success, we simply use what we have.

There is praise as we all become spectacular. 

No prejudice lingers.

No pride remains.

 

But it's only a dream.

We are still afraid of the universe,

The black cats,

The broken mirrors,

Karma.

There is no magic fairy dust to save us.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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