Chaos Theory


On this canvas of my life

it looks as though

butterflies were flapping 

their wings and flitting about

at every opportunity

making trouble

having fun

and shaking things up a bit.


Looking backwards

into the cloud,

I remember  

my lived life

was similarly 

peppered 

with disorder,

irregularities,

random events.

I struggle to discern

underlying patterns,

interconnectedness

or organisation.

It’s regularities

and irregularities

were left to the butterflies

and their flitting and flapping.

In the end they flapped the clouds away.


Tomorrow I shall paint a new canvas

and with the help of the butterflies

I will paint another picture

drawn from my life.

On canvas, I am the butterfly.

I can make the patterns,

the order or disorder.

Others may 

make of it what they will.





https://uglywriters.com/2022/09/05/chaos-theory/?fbclid=IwAR0EebGqK4l-OWkKxhKUDaVMMyKK0pmeNyYh0z-MK2QKEXwH6VWIPwighpQ


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  Photo Opportunity I watched the man crossing the path underneath the cascade of the waterfall. It had been part of the route wine was carried from the high lands, to be sold on the coast. Back in the old days, that was. But the old days weren’t very long ago. He seemed confident as he placed a foot carefully in each of the footholds hacked into the precipitous rock face. He gripped the thick metal hawser attached to the rock with strong metal rings. Gripped it firmly and proceeded slowly one step at a time. I had a camera and I thought that it was a picture he would like to have when he was dry and safe back on terra firma. Then I thought, suppose he falls, falls into the waves, to be smashed against the rocks far below. I didn’t want to have such a picture, a picture of someone’s last moments and I thought, to take it may jinx his journey and even cause him to fall. So I never took the picture. But it made no difference. The man fell anyway. https://coldrambler.blogspot.com/2024...
Read more
Image
  Frog She looked into the pond where the frog, sitting on a lily pad looked back at her alert   its eyes meeting hers. She remembered the story about a frog, how it became a prince when kissed. She thought of the sleeping beauty and how she awoke to the kiss of a prince. So, it seemed that kisses and princes must have some connection. The frog was very still. She thought it may be   still enough to kiss but she couldn’t quite reach though she tried and tried and tried while the frog stayed there still waiting.   And then it spoke. “I’m no prince,” it said. “But I’ll come closer, I’d still like a kiss.” https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/
Read more
Image
  Family History It’s all about connections. If we can only find them we can all find our dynasty we can all trace our family back to it’s royal beginnings see their place in that dynasty through their connections. If we can only find them we can all be back there then. https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/2024/04/05/cajun-mutt-press-featured-writer-04-05-24-2/ If we can only make them we can all be there now.
Read more