Insignificant ?

How can you say we're insignificant?

We're living things made up of non-living things. We're a walking, talking, singing, dancing mass of flesh and bone. We have the power to reduce music to lump of cold, dead fingers six feet underground. And then again, we have the ability to cry at the sight of the earth rotating and revolving around the Sun.

 A sunset can reduce us to tears. Rainfall can make us laugh. We can dream and still someone has the gall to call us insignificant.

I am not small. I am a thousand feet tall. I am the stuff that fairytales are made of. I'm sky and glitter and songs and magic and no one can dim my glow.

The time traveller's sitting under a tree, shaking the sand out of his shoes. He's wiping the ink from his pen and he's flipping through the pages of his notebook.

He's writing down the things he's seen, conversations with the people he's met, interpretations of the wonder he's felt. He's gone back and forth and one thing he's found is constant: that he was there all the time.

Are you telling me that this heart beating within my body, the constant drumbeat that is the soundtrack to my life, is insignificant?
The way it flutters and the way it breaks is irrelevant?

I asked my parents many years ago in a letter, what love is, and if love exists.

And I think now, as I sit and feel around me with my eyes closed, I'm learning that it does.

This is love. Living is love. It's a big mess of feelings and tears and laughter that echoes through curtains of sunlight and ribbons of thunder.

I live and therefore I love.

I love and therefore I live.

What other universe feels the way we do?

And you call us insignificant.