I sit on my knees in rice-paper stillness. I am surrounded by tiny paper cranes. A torque of hues given wings scattered around me. I reach out to touch one of my little herons with One Finger Zen. It pricks my fingertip with a peck of memories.
A little box with a cherry blossom design on the lid sits off to the side, half full of origami birds. I contemplate them with an intent to find peace.
I am a novice at this path of enlightened reconciliation.
I find failure.
All I can focus on is the lettering inside their colorful bellies. Spidery handwriting that spells out foolishness.
Selfish euphemisms wrapped upon themselves.
"The face of a crane is irrelevant" I subvocalize to myself. "The tail is the part that needs to be straight and immaculate."
The tail is balance and poise.
I brush the neck of my little pecking bird with the blood of my fingertip.
It's just a paper crane.
Like the other hundreds.
Unfinished.
11:34 p.m. - 2014-07-30
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