A Wrinkle.

As I'm staring at this massive list of papers and assignments that need to get done tonight, all of a sudden I become overwhelmed with a sense that I need to write and feeling like a poem is in order. I'm like whaaaaat. I haven't written in ages, and why now!?! So I get on this thing about wrinkles. It’s like the most random thing, but earlier today I heard someone mention that they have an “interesting wrinkle” in their life; relationally speaking, and it got me thinking like crazy. That was several hours ago and it wouldn’t let me be, so I just started writing.

A wrinkle.
Imperfection.
A fluke.

Some say they can be ironed out,
Undone.

Creases and furrows,
We let them stay.
Not worth the effort.

Laziness.
Selfish.
In time, they meddle,
Steal away affection.

Our hearts start to rust.

We are dust.
We are fragile.
We do not last.

Potential is held
Within a story.
One that’s been;
One yet to come.

A wrinkle.
---
One of my friends shared with me while I was writing this, that "Wrinkles are one of the outward signs of aging. They are a sign that our bodies will not last forever, but will eventually pass from this world. They also may redefine beauty. Many in our culture believe that wrinkles make people more ugly, in which case, they are the sign that beauty is passing away. But in fact maybe there is a different story that wrinkles tell. Maybe wrinkles teach us that the outward appearance of a person is shallow and passes with the blink of an eye in comparison to the beauty that ones heart has the potential to possess. And this beauty can be preserved for an eternity."