I don’t like wearing my wishbone where my backbone should be.
It makes no sense. I like sense.
I do wish though. Not often. But, I do.
The human condition seems inescapable in some ways.
I wish for appreciation without possession.
For space and closeness.
For security without a lock and key.
For safety without walls.
For caution without fear.
For words when they come and silence when they don’t.
You see the beautiful flower blooming in a field?
To pick it is the beginning of its end.
Your ornate vase, no matter the price, will be its deathbed.
It will look pretty inside your walls, for a moment.
For a moment, your walls will look pretty with it inside them.
Then, it will die.