The sun pierces through the yellow maple leaves as the freckles on my skin gradually turned the corners of their mouths forming tiny brown smiles. I look up toward the fiery ball of life and only get a glimpse before my eyelids peel over my vulnerable blue irises. Electric blue dots dance in front of the orange canvas that floods my sight and the ora of the orange sparks passion in me – my passion in curiosity “SUN!”I yell not expecting it to hear me for a few hundred light years but to my surprise it does and in response hides behind a passing grey cloud left over from yesterdays storm “may I ask you something” I continue on politely hoping I’ve not startled it too much. It peaks out from the grey mass slightly and flickers its golden hand as shades of grey I’ve never seen before tip toe around me. My pupils dilate; this is how I’ve been smiling lately. “I am curious to know what defines us. Is it our things, our interest, our hobbies, our friends?  If so then I am very little because I have none and very few. Why do people consume themselves with things and parade them around on these massive technicolored floats? Is this a means to individualize our self’s?  The irony. Why do these floats of many things bring people together and why do I not see the color in them? What if no-thing existed? What if we didn’t have any of these artificial interests to shield our hearts with? Would we become nothing? Everything is just so distracting that true “organicality” has become so bland we must keep recreating the natural order of things because….? We continue on adapting to this artificial life we’ve created as new new subspecies is being born. Chaos is the natural order of things? Is this chaos and if so why does it seem so controlled?  What exactly is chose?  Everything is just so distracting and the distraction keeps getting bigger and bigger like a black hole that feeds of matter, pointless matter. There is no doubt a time will come we deservingly consumed ourselves back into nothing. I’m not sure if I will ever fully understand the intensity of things, especially passions rooted from things. In fact I’m so puzzled by this I envy those with many things concretely displayed throughout their physical dwellings. How sure their hearts seem as I wonder why they came to these specific conclusions when so much more is being thrown out at them? We’ve accepted things that never should have come into existence.  If I had many things it would be other people’s things (just like everyone else) and if I had a hobby it would be to rewire the pattern that’s coding its way onto our hearts. None of it matters in the end – chaos?

When I open my eyes I see the moon staring down at me, crying. “I am but only a reflection of the sun my sister”  and I smile to it goodnight.