A, as in.

A stranger, yet familiar. Painful at times.

Then simply beautiful and innocent.

Vermin…

Sweet vermin. You slip into the depths of the inconceivable, the impossible, the unimaginable.

Lurking in the shadows, you wait patiently, almost cheerfully, with certainty.

This is the moment.

A crashing entrance.

Delicate?

Possible.

Extravagant?

Absolutely.

You coo.

Your beauty knows no bounds. So much so that you become reckless. Naïve at times, yet your charm remains unmatched.

Slug.

Like a slug, you cling, observe, and transform as you move through your experiences, traumatic or otherwise.

Past, buried. Nothing remains hidden from you.

You feed on it.

Become violent. Why not gentle.

Become gentle. Why not toxic.

Become toxic. Why not sacred, and simply free of pretense.

Yet your first nature is to be yourself, with a touch of humor and a pinch—not an insignificant one, but a pinch of eternity.