Our world is the soul

 That everyone shares.

A single point of light.

At the end of this tunnel, like an endless horizon.

Of this path of life.

This space of consciousness.

This constant border between warm skin and icy immensity.

Between the beating heart and the winds that blow saying yes and no.

Our world.

Essentially equal and indivisible.

That we divide by the body.

By material illusions and also abstract.

That we divide by numbers and words.

That we call home.

Of all that we are and pursue.

If not the very shadow under the sun.

This light, this same point of light that one day opened for us.

When we barely woke from the first cry.

From the first touch.

And then we touched the world.

And this is ours, our world.