it's funny when your life gets a gentle shake,

everything re-contextualized, rectangles become octagons become circles.

we live as shattering stained glass, ignore the image that once was,

the light fluttering through the glass, pirouetting on the stonework, that remains true through all.

Stagnation isnt death but it's not far off. I've felt like a flame in a lantern recently, changing, but an unimportant constant, a utility.

Maybe someday I'll struggle and change so much that my flame will extinguish...

Maybe my winter-ed branches will bloom into rectangles.