Egg

Lately I have this feel­ing that I liken to be­ing in­side an egg. I am in­side this egg and what I do with my life paints the in­side of the shell and every­where I look things aren’t so bad, since I’ve col­ored every bit of space in the shell. Yet there is a feel­ing deep in my lizard hind­brain that this shell is so much less than I think it is; a sus­pi­cion that it is noth­ing more than a shell and that if I broke it my world would open wide. But I’m not strong enough or fo­cused enough to break it at the right spot.

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