Shapes, boxes and abandoned art
We are beings of potential.
We are beings of growth.
We are who we are. Who we have been. Who we may become.
We are the leftover shapes of the guides and containers that have been placed within beside and around us.
We start. And we move. And we grow.
We become ourselves. Start to show our shapes. To acquire the contours of those around us.
They stretch us. Nourish us. Contain us.
They can take us to heights of talent and skill that leave us breathless with delight.
They can point us to understandings of the Earth and its inhabitants that grow our ideas of who we are and how we live in this beautiful damaged world.
They can squash. Stunt. Prune.
Take passions from a shout to a whisper. Push us on paths so narrow we fall.
In boxes so small and tight that dynamite becomes the only way to fight.
I will never be the person I could have been.
I will never fit the box that was made for me.
I will, always and forever, be incomplete.
A collection of influences and potentials to delight and confound.
A work of art forever being refined, and in the end abandoned, not completed.
And so will you.