I am a sponge
Swollen with the juices of my surroundings
Constantly wrung out, then doused again
Caught in a never-ending cycle of form and reform
Absorbing and releasing
Greedily soaking in the mood of what’s around me

I am a hopeless romantic
By choice, not nature
Purposefully reading in partial blackness
Silently delighting in the challenge presented,
Because the terrifying thought of the printed words
Suddenly illuminated, free from distortion –
Is enough to force curiosity to turn on the light

I am listening to the same tune
Over
And over
And over again
The fractal dipping and transforming exactly the same way
Every single time
Only, each time it is recreated
A stray line threatens to break the chain
That toe curling dissonance at the end of the song that almost doesn’t resolve itself
But does

I am always one point away
But never two steps too far
Moving one piece at a time
Yet seeing a million possibilities at once

I am not sure
I am scared, and always will be
But what would be the point of a game where all the players knew their fate?
An infinitely small number of things are absolute
And that’s just fine with me