I watch as the stars swim in and out of existence, serenely oblivious to the screaming disarray on Earth
Silently dipping, twinkling, dancing across the vacuum of infinity just above me.
I bring my eyes down to the chaos beneath my warm fingertips, but even this mess has an order
Everything I touch has a pattern; the way she moves her hands when I asked about art traced a constellation beyond the Milky Way, and this cold window pane has mathematical precision in its reflection
Even our imperfections are symmetrical at their atomic core, perfect swirls in phi and sigma
Skin cells packed tightly in perfect disorder – bodies fitting together like hands intertwining
A flawless anarchy of life and death

I realised I had only been looking at one corner of one colour in this work of fine art, from here I can view the masterpiece of the universe in planets and in stars,
But I’ll never see this living painting in which I play a part, this is the price I pay for being part of time’s magnum opus – one portrait, 7 billion beating hearts.