Searching Is Not The Answer
I retract my eyes from its edges allowing sullied breath to sink into my lungs. I release this breath with an odd sense of curiosity as it breath settles upon the mirror. Now, with breath upon mirror, I watch, as it fades almost instantly. As if disdained upon my presence. Only to leave an almost translucent outline upon the glass.
And again, my thoughts wonder upon the condensation of my breath. And in watching it fade, I ponder, with intellectual eagerness , am I but not a breath from the universe, from God? Slowly fading upon the reaction of molecules and the designers final stroke of the brush.
Am I not but a reflection of what another has drawn, for what naturality can create such perfection mixed with such disaster. Playing upon the good and bad like…