Woman of a Thousand Worlds

Would you believe that people are worlds? Each individual is a world in him/herself, or perhaps hundreds, even thousands. No matter how intelligent, beautiful, miserable, idiotic, spiteful, romantic, childish, mature, evil, courageous, alone, and a million traits we are, every one of us has at least one world within, teeming with a life of its own. Perhaps the lives we lead are no more our own than it is in possession of these internal worlds, ruled by an ecosystem of thought and flesh, emotion and reason.

Can I claim to have a thousand worlds within? I cannot say for sure. But I know, for a fact, that within me lies too many worlds living, birthing, dying, ailing, thriving, collapsing, forming. Some worlds have made contact with their little cosmic cousins, and are either at inner-galactic peace or war. I am a macrocosm of microworlds, forever teeming with the cycles of time and space.

You cannot see them. They are not physical. But you can see the skin holding them together, a cosmic membrance to hold the personal universe together. Look around you, and remember: that man screaming at the street corner, that girl walking with a cup of expensive coffee, that child laughing and running with her friends at school, that elder shuffling with a walker with a bent back... those people are worlds. Those people are ecosystems within themselves. And each world has a complexity untouchable by human comprehension....