Matter

I just think the universe likes patterns.
The distance from the earth to the sun and moon, 
it matters.
I can take comfort in the familiar, 
the black and blue night sky, 
the rings around Saturn.

If twice is a sign, three times is an answer.
Let the cosmos take the wheel, wake me up when I get there.
Break me up and show me what I’m made of,
so I can learn faster.
I’m not afraid to fall, I always fail upward.

Chase me down and show me where I faltered.
The stars only align so they can scatter.
Hold me there and face me with the after.
Nothing’s pretty anymore.
What’s the matter?