It could be anything.
From the light switch on the wall.
To a spider on the floor. Crawling. Crawling.
A blind child just born.
You make your way around.
Desperate. Unknowing... free.
Unjudging, uncaring, unseeing.
You set your wings free.
Not black or white.
Just a myriad of colors.
You see the true selves.
As they are.
In their beauty.
