Looking into my kaleidoscope, I cant help but ponder the fragments of reality coming together to form mindless, beautiful patterns.

Never falling into place in such a way that something real can form, but offering plenty of beauty to make up for it.

I am like a kaleidoscope.

Pieces of myself falling into random beautiful patterns.

I let someone look in and they are dazzled by it. Entranced by it. They want to stay longer and see what other combinations can be made.

The infinite number of distractions from the reality that I am not whole.

I am pieces left over from something that used to be, thrown into a tunnel of mirrors and left to chance. Pieces of my childhood, my mistakes, my dreams, my ego.

Is it common for us to be like this or am I alone?

are other people kaleidoscopes too?

perhaps their life has shaved off excess and carved a beautiful sculpture instead of shattering what existed from the beginning…

Or maybe I am focusing on the shavings instead of noticing the sculpture that remains.

The beautiful white horse, horn upon its head. light pink mane and golden hooves. Stamping. Demanding I notice and hop on its back, so I can ride to my greatest potential.

My sculpture is alive and waiting, and here I am making patterns out of the excess.