We have been told that space
with its billions of stars
and countless galaxies is vast
and still largely empty, a void
that needs no filling, ever expanding.
We are small creatures in that vastness,
important only to ourselves, motes
of cosmic dust easily forgotten.
But the space between heart and mind
can be equally vast, one untethered
from the other, always a void
that we demand to be filled
even when the space and the silence
it brings ought to be treasured.
Yet there may come moments, longer
periods, when a wormhole appears
and the connection is made,
space collapsing and giving birth
to a singularity we prefer to call love.