They are one, yet with separate identities.
Different cravings, different dreams
The paper believes:
Once before, I could soar.
But now with wings, I plummet to the ground.
The crane thinks:
Fold and creases, all the same.
For once I become a crane, people would praise.
The paper yearns:
I watch the earth, suspended from the ceiling.
Memories plaguing, laughter haunting.
The crane learns:
A piece of paper, a piece of trash.
At least there would be hesitation to crush a crane.
The one mind battles back and forth.
Now tell me please, if you can.
Am I the paper or the crane?
- JoinedFebruary 14, 2014