Kaleidoscope:
Recalling days before the “PONG” debut
I lay upon my grandpa’s carpet; yearned
Into Kaleidoscope of every hue.
The patterns shifted from my tiny turn.
A subtle re-arrangement of the glass.
Then—catastrophic move without a clue.
And nothing of the former crystal mass
Remained. It shattered into something new.
The elegant and beautiful destroyed.
UNDO did not exist; no back-up file.
A thousand strategies and plans deployed
Not one could recreate angelic style.
Experience taught me that another twist
Might sometimes bring a better jewel to view.
And all the while, the cardboard, mirror and stones
Remained. And no-one died in consequence
Of Pattern One or Pattern Two in view until
A bully smashed device entirely.
Translucent stones spilled like blood.
The mirror in cutting shards upon the floor.
The cardboard crushed.
Naught of value yet
Remained.
The bully, I am glad to say—he slashed
His hand upon the useless shattered mirror
The bleeding stopped but that white scar remained.
Remained.
Cancer Always Loses in the End
petersironwood 