“Observe my arms grow colossal, witness my fingers cut the earth.”, you yelled one day while twiddling thumbs across a long, righteous hollow. You stood up to see a glass floor, and thousands of palms pressed on it. As you were still, the room seems to be moving.
You’ve learned that one day you will sink to the floor, and will let the palms take hold of your breath. My eyes are but the windows on the walls.