Origami Kitten – I have folded myself.

In the beginning,
There’s a two-dimensional,
Perfectly smooth square.
Beautifully flawless,
And pristine.
Then, creation.
The first fold comes,
And it’s no longer perfect.
Creases can be smoothed
And flattened,
But they are permanent.
A skilled folder’s hands,
Add three-dimensionality,
And tiny defects,
Which give it personality,
And uniqueness.
More folds and more creases.
Then, complexity.
Only the folder knows,
When what was once,
Flat and without form,
Is finished.
Able to stand on its own.
Origami is a meditation.
One wonders things,
Like whether we are folded paper,
Creased by Natural Selection,
Until we are so complex,
Our creases can’t be counted.
How many of us ended up,
In the cosmic waste basket?