The universe acts in an infinite series of checks and balances. We pay the price for every transaction.
I know that for every smidge of makeup I put on my face, a denizen of spite will appear on my forehead between my eyes; a “third eye of evil,” if you will.
I know that for every minute I delay waking up, there is an unread work email waiting for me; my alarm’s way of retribution.
I know that for every mean act and hurting word, there is a buzzkill, growing in magnitude in some far corner of the galaxy, out to demolish my day or haunt my nights.
I know that for every sunlit childhood memory, there is one immersed in shadow, sipping repercussions through a straw.
I know that for every piece of my heart I give away, my heart becomes all the more rough and coarse, an organism of craters in my body reflecting the moon up above.
But this I know for certain: for every moment sung in despair on Earth, there is a comet racing past us, a passerby bearing witness to our trials and knowing we are larger than our mistakes, and giving us yet another day to rise and fall, and rise and fall again.
A response to Daily Post’s prompt: Price