I walk blindly through beauty.
I numbly touch its fur.
I exhale its fragrance.

To drift is to be sure.

My vision is cut short,
that of a pin,
sculpted,
chiseled,
cut down.
Brown is my vision,
defined by the words within.

between the two,
I am.

Stability in the binding,
the spine, I bend.

The cover, my beginning.
The back, my end.