If

If I had been born with no eyes and no ears... what of the rest of my self? If dreams were reality and reality were dreams, what about hope? If today repeated itself within itself, repeated itself within itself, repeated... If the sky would allow my heart beat to echo off the cliffs of Nepal. If I could, for once, become small, like a child, yet smaller, like an ant, yet smaller, and sink in the black and brown and green and blue eyes of the world, like a virus, and touch the souls of all my hosts. Stick to the souls of all my hosts, and think what they think when they think of the world. If I could be small and a grain of sand among grains of sand in the sands of the universe, I would be happy in the wind. If there were no despair, would there be need for hope? If sugar suddenly became bitter in my mouth, then would I still appreciate those kisses? I, fiction.