#maybe itll stop my world from returning to ash. hopefully

[opens-up-4-nobody]

I'm walking. Fast. The world is tilted. There's green peaking up from flat gray. Short, stubby moss. Like an ooze. Like the sidewalk is compressing it sideways. Persistent even in a concrete jungle. This little thing. This tiny thing. Reaching up toward the sun from under trampling feet. Toward a distant star. And I'm walking, but I'm light through a prism. Splitting seven different directions. A billion and a billion and a billion years brought this tiny crumpled organism to the crushing weight of my foot. And I want to scream and I want to run and I want to cry. Because it's beautiful and I'm worried I'm the only one who sees it. I'm worried it'll burn through me. I'm worried that when I walk this path for my hundred thousandth time, I won't see it like I did this first time. That my world will fall to ash again and I won't see the moss growing up between the seams in the sidewalk.