Chaos

I am a mere sequence of words

uttered from my mother’s lips.

Words of hope,

-of anticipation told in a hush

to the air in front of her.

I am a child, swinging on the swings

in front of my home,

Kicking as hard as I can wishing my legs to sprout wings

-and carry me into the sky.

I am a piece of paper.

Name, age, dreams, aspirations

thrown into the face of a tired judge to decide my future.

I am a slow burning ember,

Burning bright against the darkness of the unknown.

-and into the unknown

I venture

Winged legs,

heart of warmth,

and head of hope and anticipation.

I am a sequence of thoughts

strung together on the needle of time

-and it soars forward,

Stopping only when the final bead has been strung by the masterful hand of chaos.