Room

image by oritz320

We are alive at a time
when the shell of the world
is cracking, cracking,
When the egg cracks
will there be life?
When the egg cracks,
for whom
will there be life?
When the egg cracks,
the time of the egg is over.
When the egg cracks,
is wholeness
coming or going?
We are coming alive
inside the shell of the world.

What, anymore, is the world?
The earth we know,
our solar system in our Milky Way?
The billions of other galaxies?
What is your world?
Your tighter world,
of family or pets, familiar places —
cracking, cracking.
Your heart can feel
the fissures.
The shell of whatever
you call the world
is cracking open,
a giant egg we couldn’t know
we’ve always been nestled within.

A matrix womb
holding all we’ve ever known.
The shell
of what we’ve called our world,
fracturing, fracturing,
Everything inside can feel it.
You can feel it,
slow and unstoppable,
that shell, that shell
rupturing into shards.
Shield your eyes
and make your blind way
through pieces that once protected you
There’s room! You can grow!
This is not the little world you knew.

©Susa Silvermarie 2026

image by MabelAmber