#29

Though

Life started out a sketchpad

A wreck of dark thick lines scribbled scrawling

And beating across my eyes, I am now

Round thumbing and indexing smooth

Smoothing stretching out to

limits permit me, I do not bleed

all over it, do not bleed the goal now is form,

Light must pass through it

They did the best they could

I prune I evolve

I create new neural pathways

I scrape the scrawl that wreck,

the carbon shavings, the pulverized

child-self from pit to gradient see

how I am rising into

an orb, life like, real, crystal

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