A Life

Tentacles expand from within the center. A center that keeps moving on down the hall. It has to be exact. 

Tentacles? Cliche? Some like, some don't. 

There are many external stimuli which alter the direction of the center. Will it come to the same point designated originally? Those slippery tentacles (I know) prod and learn every corner and surface. Sliding as the center movies. Perhaps. Maybe with a slightly different reality, perspective--alternating constantly. 

Maybe it never comes to the same point intended, maybe it grows a life not devised from the start. The outside pushing in? Or the other way. 

A life grows, a true life. 

It breaths, it feels. Perhaps more than what was initially conceived. But that's okay. That's perfect. That's what I want. 

Like ingredients plopped into a boiling cauldron, what comes out is completely different. I slip my fingers around the rim and push, spilling it all across the shinny clean floors, down the hall. Thousands of outcomes and points forming and destroying themselves. More than I can contemplate. 

But that's okay. 

It's alive. Alive I say. Hahahahahahaha. 

And --

WCM






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Objects and Places

A Story A Day

Sprint Note 9 Android 10 Update