A fly keeps landing on my arm. This whole place and it keeps coming back to me. Tickling me with its feet every time it moves.
I keep shooing it away but it just circles back. Lands. Turns to look at me as it rings its front legs. Arms?
In this moment though I’m not annoyed at it. I’m strangely attached. Almost playfully curious.
There is a now-like quality to our space together. Peace between species for just this moment.
It pulls me into a thought journey about time. How time’s always perceived as a calendar but my current reality is more like a loop of present moments. Not linear boxed bits.
I get a sense of forever in that moment I can not even begin to explain. As the fly seemingly stares at me, it braces against my breathes.
I am worthy of its company.
This being of purpose.
It’s unhuman quality of simple vastness.
I lay humbled as the clock slips back into ticking. I am again just a human in queue.
© MJ Coppola, July 23, 2025