My being is scattered
Frantic pin-pricks poke metaphorical holes in the fabric of my being;
the soft cottony material that envelops my thoughts, actions and words.
Holes stretch, become gaping voids, contents expelled into the universe,
searching for new quarters wherein to quarantine their quota of data.
I feel attached
to the world;
we are one being.
I reel, wings outstretched,
like a graceful bird
unsure of what it’s seeing.
My being is scattered across The Reality.
My mind in different locations –
drinking in all annotation
as far as the heart can see.
© Annalinde Louw 2012
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This piece was written on 19 December 2012