Life is a pebble,
that I hold in the corner of my hand,
and unfold with the passing of
each choice and
each action,
with my initiative, to change.
Or actively blow into the wind with
each act
of negative inertia.
I sit, and watch, as the world falls away,
falling, sleepily, into the distance
of the stars that float in depths of the sea.
I watch them dance, a fractal of imagery and color,
beauty and meaning,
and find myself wondering:
how many, how many pebbles, am I hoarding to myself?
