The Straight Line

 I am a lone point. A dot that barely exists on the map. Buried between mountains and rocks and dirt. A single point looking for a destination without a straight line. 


I am dust. Dust with no place to land. Nothing to cling to. I stay trapped in the sunlight. Hanging motionless in the air. Looking for a surface to fall on.


I am broken. Broken pieces of glass scattered across the pavement, reflecting that same light that traps the dust. All of my pieces, be it glass, or dust will inevitably become the straight line that connects the dots.


Everything has purpose. Everything has meaning. 

I am not trapped in the light.

I am safe from the darkness.



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