Progression

At first I saw it like a train. One of those tiny kinds that kids can ride. Going round and round a rickety set of tracks. The scenery the same every time. A succession of mistakes, missteps, misfortunes all gathering speed and becoming one.

And then I saw it like a Ferris wheel. Turning, stopping, lifting, dropping. The view from the top spectacular. The air soft and warm, like the fuzzy stomach of a puppy; like the velvety ears of a newborn lamb; like a down-filled pillow at the end of the day. Comfortable in an exciting kind of way.

But now I think it’s more like water or mercury or anything that can flow. Seeking out every nook and crevice. So many places to go. Like poetry. Like satiny words that go on forever. Like billowy rhymes that never stop. Wandering through a museum of my deepest emotions, a tourist, awestruck. A quiet song. A gentle touch. The slightest breeze from butterfly wings. Watching the minutes spark like matches. Each flame dying only to give life to the next.