The twisted helix contorted and

compressed itself into

a minute golf-ball

bounded

by fat.

The spring

lay dormant,

keeping its purpose

hidden deep within a dense

code of breathtaking simplicity.

It waited without knowledge of time

of itself

of anything outside itself.

It was

self-less,

but not selfless.

A hand, equally unknowing, swept it from a surface,

wiped a tear from a loved-one’s face,

and the helix found its twisted,

breath-taking purpose.