in the first moment that she breathes, she is that of the supernatural

 

by three, she is all that is the universe

there is space dust in her bones and galaxies in her blood

her grin is a facula and her irises are nebulae

she is a force of nature

 

at eight, her personality is a riptide and you had better

steady yourself for impact when her laughter

loud, joyous laughter

crashes into you,

and you will feel every sharp rock and smooth grain of sand,

whether you wanted to or not.

 

at twelve, there is mild despair

will I matter in two hundred years?

will people know my name?

 

the light dims.

 

at age sixteen, she separates from the Truth.

she doesn’t believe in miracles or serendipity

her body, her laughter, her joy and grief and curiosity

are all

            Fleeting

and she will revert to the dust from whence she came

and nothing truly lasts

 

she grows

 

she is nineteen and the Truth returns,

Gradually

as the sun over the trees at dawn

 

and slowly

slowly

she realizes

 

sometimes the good things aren’t extraordinary,

and sometimes the extraordinary is mundane

(because she is Mundane

                and

she is made of star dust)

 

why continue?

 

there are dogs in this world, she thinks

and flowers

 

that’s pretty great