Slow Moving

  Today I found myself laying unusually late on my living room floor, looking up at the skylight, the sun streaming in, the buzzing of a lost wasp filled the room.  As I laid there, I asked myself where am I going?  And there was no reply, just the sound of a frustrated wasp attempting to penetrate the plexiglass skylight.  I used to have long conversations with myself, I would ask questions and receive answers, lately though, there is nothing answering back, it appears as though I've abandoned myself.  I suppose I have no other option but to forge forward alone.

  So, I laid there for a few minutes more, patiently waiting, curiously wondering, subtly hoping, if a reply would come forward, still nothing.  I turned my attention to the wasp, he would smack himself against the skylight, fall a few feet then recover mid-air and give it another go.  I watched this futile process repeat itself.  Other than the plexiglass, what was going through the wasp's head?  I'm not a fan of wasps, and I really don't think anyone is, so it crossed my mind to grab a broom and put an end to his life, alternately I though perhaps I should be benevolent and help him out a window.

  Then I looked at the wasp, and reflected on my understanding of how the world works, got up and started my studying.  Perhaps he'll die there in my living room and wind up a dry carcass on a windowsill, perhaps he'll be lying in wait and give me a bite at some point tonight and die at my hand, perhaps he'll escape the house and have a story to share with his fellow wasps about how he, without any assistance, was able to free himself from what appeared to be an invisible barrier.