Like the river
that
flows calmly,
like the storm
that
never lets up,
like the hill
that
stays put,
like the drizzle
that
cleanses everything,
like the dandelion
that
drifts away,
like the rain
that
falls heavily,
like the temple
that
invites you in,
like the flowers
that
dance in the breeze,
like the honey
that
sticks to the surface,
like the mess
that
questions one’s sanity,
like the chaos
that
finds its way in,
time after time,
I am all that.
Yet,
I couldn’t be any different.
I couldn’t be any more similar.
A paradox,
a puzzle.
Isn’t that what life is all about?
Or did life just turn me into one?
This piece is written in response to the three hundred and fourth edition of Fiction Monday inspired by the word prompt – SIMILAR hosted by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
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