Space

Golden light fills the space, the whole space. It comes from everywhere. It defies movement. It has no direction. It is seamless. It is sad and tired and burning. It is filled to the brim with joy.
 
A thousand golden breaths distilled into a single expansive song. My breaths, the ones that push me onwards. They have dissipated. Golden light swallows rhythm and completes it. 

The wall is hard. The wall is so damn hard. I press myself against it. I only press myself. I could break the wall with my fists, but fists are not for walls that make rooms. 

Soft squishy humans build walls. 
Golden light is gone: walls. 
Golden light is blocked: walls.
Golden light would have have torn me apart.
Walls.
I am too squishy for infinity. 
So I make walls.

 

Yellow Sweater

WA

YWP Alumni Advisor

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