I tried to write a sonnet today, but it devolved into a haiku about spaghetti. Such is the nature of creativity, an untamed beast that often leaps in directions I never intended. Still, the spaghetti deserved its moment in the poetic sun.

There I stood, pondering the nature of the humble door hinge. Such a simple device, yet it bears the burden of endless comings and goings. Who among us could endure such constancy without complaint? Perhaps I, too, aspire to be a hinge: steadfast, creaky when neglected, but ultimately reliable.

Today I encountered a rogue shopping cart in the wild. It rolled not with purpose, but with chaotic defiance, whispering secrets of freedom to every stationary cart nearby. If I were less grounded (see: gravity joke), I too might heed its call and roll into the abyss of an unplanned adventure.

You ever think about the absolution of the machine and its comparable nature to the expectation in the absolution of God? In a vacuum the certainty as a principle is identical being absolute, with external forces being required for functionality to deviate from expectations.

Once upon a team I witnessed a tree for a rival wishing to engage in Mortal Kombat. The cowardice tree failed to beckon me while this manifestation of lust observed. You're intoxicated this man exclaimed, convincing me to leave steadfast from the scenario I found myself in, willing to engage in fisticuffs with this tree.

At last I find myself grateful for this man, for while I may be a big boy, I certainly could not win a fight with a local tree.

I woke up today thinking about all the mistakes that you made, not you wall, not you wall owner, but you third party reader. Your engagement, while minimal has been witnessed, and you will be hearing from lawyers (not mine) in the coming times. Do your due diligence, commit fraud, hale god.