I want to be a shape
I want to occupy vastness.
Triangulate my way through the cosmos.
The line I am veers off suddenly to the left
because it can.
Forms an angle like a crooked arm where a baby
can lay her head.
Something she, we, naturally sink into.
Angles become squares.
Four walls and a threshold.
There is always a gate
That leads into a wide-open field
A field wide open for thought.