Wingspan of an Eggshell

September 30, 2011

Sometimes you spend a long, hard-earned season ensconced in a little womblike world, sheltered from the caustic glances of impartiality and malaise. You hide out, waiting until it is time to begin again. After many deaths and depths within the shell (whether of one’s own making or someone else’s does not matter) the intentionality of one’s spoken words, coming forth shaped exactly as a the point of a beak poke a little hole in the shell, just enough to see that it is indeed time to emerge. The unfolding to take place of feathers and wings cannot be compared to the small hollow of safety that breaks to pieces and cannot be reassembled: it is only temporary, and is not an adequate measure of wingspan.