Falling folds rest gently on the floor
Tiny portals show only congestion
Straight lines weave curve and intersect
All around chaos abounds

Charting my way through to the end of each day
Is a challenge that takes all of me
Stopping to breathe in the beauty
Seems like an irresponsible luxury

And yet why am I here?
Is it only to take care of the mundane?
Or is it the beauty which creates the meaning I crave?
I look again at the falling folds