Like a beam of light through a prism
Before the great schism
We all start out the same:
Naked and vulnerable
Tiny but venerable
Unrecognizable
But human nonetheless.
Out of a single, bright beam
We are bent into our separate self
We find ourselves refracted
Traveling on our own path, at our own pace
For some it's a race
For others, a journey
Either way, learn we must
How to navigate these straits
How to trust our fates
Looking back, we sense our common source
Dissected, temporarily
Split into a thousand wavelengths
Our thousand salient strengths
Can recombine
Reunited in a final burst of brilliance
About the Creator
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Trouble at the Tea Leafing Café
The rain had started right around the time that Annie was buttering her second thick slice of homemade toast for breakfast, and hadn’t paused since. Not that anyone could tell. The windows of the café were fogged over, and with every seat filled with happy customers munching on fresh baked pastries or steaming bowls of the delicious soup of the day, it was hardly surprising. Annie looked around the room, finally taking a moment to breathe after the lunch time rush. Her old life already felt like a bad memory, a part of her history, always, but just that. History.
By Hannah Moore5 days ago in Fiction
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