unsure and hopeful that i will turn
eventually
into this giant thing i desperately want to
be.
a small ball of string
that starts tipping, then slowly rocking and
gently
on it's way to becoming
the biggest
ball of collected life stor(ies)y
ever in my history.
frankly my dear, i don't give a damn.
it's only ever been
about pushing
being pushed
into the shape
whatever it is
of something i am inside but cannot be
on my own.
i keep discovering little corners and bits of geometry
that i didn't know fit into my structure
but do.
oh, so well.
these sharp angles that keep poking out are preventing me from rolling,
but then,
i am finding
the stopping and slowing
is all this ink needs
to flow life into these dry bones.
green as a dandelion leaf.
