Why can't I be everything?
The shapes conjured, and floating, in the inner sphere.
Darkness and light, everything but slight.
A vast aspiration,
riches, sensations - surfaces, layers, from one to the other.
Desires beyond survival.., and survival beyond desires?
Thriving adult dwells on the question of the moment.
Tiresome, I realise. A feeling of loss.
Why can't I be everything? I was, in that moment.
