Squiggly Lines (poem)

Bitchin’…!

Evy Zen

Who says we meet our fate in a straight, single-file line?
Who says the path is shaped in zigzag or dotted horizontals?

Paths are in infinity’s shape at soul-level,
A glop of squiggly lines wadded up into a paper ball at material-value.

Take that crinkled sheet of tree pulp and toss it in the waste bin,
and only let Infinity in.

tbt

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