It's amazing how we are. Or how we be. Or how we become. Or how we get to be, or made to be. Or flipping in hula-hoop-ish fashions to be, and right back, without having the slightest clue what a hula-hoop flip is, or why it could be a fashion of being.
It's amazing how it's amazing. Or how we want to regard it as amazing. Or how the mind stretches to find reasons for it to be something else, but settles for amazing. It's amazing how it swirls, dancing in electrifying illumination, sits still, then settles for 'amazing' . And after it's all done, one slight back-swirl holds within the true amazingness of some little amazing things combined. And when you think about those little amazing things, you get introduced to their big amazing siblings on the way, whose nature you're entirely unaware of.
It's amazing how satisfying those little things are, only when they're not. And when they there, complete, but nowhere near fullness. And you'd try to piece them together; try to sight a complete picture that is dysfunctionally gaped. Scrapes from one corner and some from another, dashing them together and fitting it together, when you know it can never fit.
But amazing it is, and amazing it will remain.
Because who ever said amazing is amazing? Amazing it infuriating. Amazing is implicated and inflated. Amazing is so many things with letters swaying and twirling to be that thing that your mind only wishes them to stay intact, only for once.
And once it's all over, there will be room for being.
And further to the edge of your seat you move...
