On the first day, I created shapes, little funny characters with no purpose,
perfectly in the place which I assigned them.
Then I dove into them, giving them the greatest gift I had, myself.
Suddenly what made them was not the shape I gave them, but the bodies they gave me.
These brilliant little lives. Perfectly ignorant, willfully dumb.
Each a part of me.
Then they started destorying the others’ physical bodies.
The true them, the them that was me never died. It just recycled.
These brilliant little creatures, recreating the world I gave them.
Living art, cycling, creating new art and destroying old
Through hate and pain and suffering, perfect little lives.
Pefect in their imperfection
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