I laid out my blocks so carefully, meticulously fitted for function and form. And I sat back, pleased with my plan and product. But then,
the wind blew, and the lightest fixtures fell and broke in the falling. And big, hurried feet stomped by, almost unaware that I had even been building. And the sight left
was a crumpled mess, and
that all the work was in vain. It seemed so useless. Why did I even spend my time thinking and building when nothing lasted of my effort and imagination?
In my pain, I fingered my trampled treasures. Did I have the will to try again? I wasn’t sure.
But one by one, I pulled blocks and pieces from the mess and tried to make order from the brokenness. This time, I thought, I will not take so much time.
I’ll not think so much—maybe just bump color…
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