to the one whom gravity holds tightest to,

 

you're an aging collection of

thin skin and heavy bones

known by a name 

passed through the lips of few

 

with ribs housing

faults and failures and flaw

visible only through mirrors

but never through eyes

 

yet despite the doubt that

draws your eyes to the ground,

remember to 

pause.

 

listen --

 

hear your holy organs

play in sync,

on and on

in endless celebration

of your divinity

 

for just beneath

your sacred chest lies

the heart of the matter.

 

 

Love always,

    - the one who walks in your shoes