Old soul connects to foreign body, moving beautiful and dutiful nutrients from point a to point b; in this human body cell sits centuries of shaking table ornaments and a quivering sense of gratitude as orange meets purple meets blue. Good morning lovely! You are the sun beaming magnificent. You have a gift that you must keep secret until it whispers its way through you. You will sooner than later break in two and create a path of solar systems. I have the energy of an uncrushed coffee bean singing praises to its mother. Oh, thank you dear giver! For I see the light reverberating out of my wrist bones and showing the silence which accoutrement best fits. I am wearing me in the latest fall fashion, how nice! I am vibrating toothpick nonsense, I am sweet potato princess, hinged on old selifes taken in bad lighting. Old cells in a new body, flimsy and throwaway. How do you balance? Can I be four, five, and a billion twenty three? I am a built-up web of contradictions flirting each other into oblivion. Lips hinge on every last smoked cigarette, ******* cancer down; beautiful, dutiful disease having its way slowly but surely with the universe. Did you ask first? She is a magnificent mistress who deserves at least the tenderness of a question. You can do better, darling, than a flicked eyebrow upwards and the rolling thoughts of "Me, me, me," on repeat in endless sequence. Can't you see the patterns, the exquisite dance between embroidery and thin willow wisps of thread? Each one of you is countless stitch marks, beautiful patchwork crescents calling out "Who is your maker?" from the quilted cosmos. I will catch my breath from its endless throwing, and I will sell my soul to a constant want for knowing.