The beat of the universe

We are the immortal lines bestowed upon a mortal canvas; the living ghosts of every tender molecule ever birthed and adored and forgotten. Like fireworks we explode and like fireworks we fade, our edges daggered by the unrivaled realisation that before us lies the secret ingredient to life's signature dish. We are the mother cutting through a faceless crowd, everything ever known about life dispersed like ants before a storm. We are the first and last kiss the world will ever know. The impervious knowledge that everything that was and will ever be is insignificant in comparison to the present moment, captured for all eternity by a faulty camera. Broken and reassembled, buried and excavated, affirmed and denied. This is the way of things, the beat of the universe thumping against the walls of our abdomen. We hitchhike from ride to ride along this endless stretch of time, knowing with unshakeable certainty that at the heart of everything is the heart of another. With every line, every uncalculated breath and every life soaked morsel of mortality, we bare witness to the unbroken conversation between love, loss and intimacy.

Joel Checkley