Where Love Heals

I don’t think wonder is optional.

I think it is as necessary
to the human soul

as oxygen is
to the body.

Think about it.

The universe could have been practical.

It could have made trees
that simply produced oxygen.

Instead,

it made cherry blossoms.

It could have made birds
that simply flew.

Instead,

it painted hummingbirds
with emerald throats
that shimmer differently
depending on how the light
chooses to love them.

It could have filled the oceans
with creatures that survived.

Instead,

it imagined whales
that sing across hundreds of miles,

as though loneliness itself
could become music.

The night sky
didn’t need galaxies.

One star
would have been enough
to remind us where north is.

Instead,

the universe scattered billions,

then wrapped one planet
in rings so breathtaking

that even from millions of miles away,

Saturn still looks
like it dressed up
for no one.

There are places
beneath the ocean

where creatures glow
without ever expecting
to be seen.

Flowers bloom
high on mountains

where no human foot
will ever wander.

Entire constellations
burn for millions of years,

their light traveling impossible distances,

knowing full well

some of it will arrive

only after the civilization
that first looked up
is long gone.

What extravagant behavior.

What beautiful waste.

Unless…

beauty isn’t waste at all.

Maybe wonder
is one of the oldest languages
the universe speaks.

A quiet reminder

that not everything valuable

exists to be useful.

We have been taught

to measure our lives

by productivity.

By achievement.

By efficiency.

But the universe
keeps interrupting us

with sunsets.

With fireflies.

With children laughing
before they know
what embarrassment is.

With the smell of rain
on dry earth.

With the impossible geometry
of a snowflake.

As if to say,

“Look.”

Not because looking
changes the world.

Because looking

changes you.

Perhaps that is why
wonder exists.

Not to impress us.

To rescue us.

To remind us,

again and again,

that a life spent only surviving

is far too small

for a universe
that has always been
trying to teach us

how to be amazed.

Jacque Michele