Origami

If you were to imagine
your life as a series of folds
upon a piece of paper...
As a life goes on independent
of the majority of lives surrounding it,
a part of and yet separate --as it transpires--
the paper wrinkles, edges over itself,
bends this way and that.
We drive down highways laned in cars,
jammed together not unlike the developments
that acre across the horizon
each with its family doing its family thing:
intersections a stop and gone.
Years pass, the paper folds new directions,
creases form, perhaps are smoothened, soothed,
or instead, deepen. We laugh in lines.
We wake in new dawn stretches
and as the day unfolds, refolds, upon itself
we become our own origami.