I threw a paper plane at you,
In slight jest,
And a little playful anger.
Not to maim or injure.
But,
Just to nip your shoulder
Or graze your elbow
In an impulsive expression
Of emotions
Stirred up in this blowing wind,
That I,
An inconsequential sheet of paper,
Often get caught up in.
It hit your arm,
But caught your eye.
And you sat down with it;
Unfolding it,
And refolding it,
In front of my eyes.
It was like a magic show
I wasn’t prepared to watch
But found myself in the midst of.
With great care,
You refashioned the already fragile bends,
Contrary to their pre-folds
Into a boomerang.
How deliberate,
The metamorphosis of a piece of paper,
Into a weapon
Disguised as a plaything.
And you shot it at me.
Maybe you’d aimed for it to circle me
And return to you
Unscathing,
Unscathed;
Yet creating a noisy ripple
Of disturbed air,
For me to reel in.
Or maybe you’d just decided to play along,
And in your passionate manner,
Created more than you intended to.
And in fear of over creation
Fashioned it to only orbit me
And not touch.
So that it comes back to you,
And I have nothing tangible
To remember it by.
But you were standing too close
Too far to the right
To aim wrongly.
And it caught me in the eye.
Now the paper is soaked
In letters flowing red with meaning,
And I’m blinded in one eye.
Maybe you’ve won the game
And now,
My vision is a shade offset,
To forever ignore the circinate trajectory
Of the
Ring of the boomerang.
Everything in the world has a cyclical trajectory. So how do we figure out where it began and where it ends? Do we even know if we're the ones in the circle, or if we're inevitably creating more circles by promising to another with a circle? Are circles even passionately bad or good, or are they just the objective reality of everything that we live in, on, with and through?
Just a lot more questions for today! Do comment, email or message me for possible answers or maybe even some never-ending cyclical thought exchanges.
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