There lies a baby. Tucked into the fetal position, it keeps hidden thoughts, generally unrelated to the outside world, always separated from its long lost twin. It curls up and thinks, keeping its ideas and thoughts separate from the rest of the world.
There sits the young child, bent over slightly to peek at what lays underfoot. What secrets lie just beneath the surface, the child wonders? A pair of eyes full of youthful exuberance scan onwards, taking in a great deal of knowledge previously unrevealed. And as the child's eyes come upward to the horizon, they catch sight of another child. The two look at each other, so much alike, yet somehow different. And across the separations of distance, knowledge, and difference, a friendship is born.
There sits Paolo, forever yearning to find his long lost Francesca. Across the bounds of a sea of words they occasionally come close enough to kiss, but then are pulled away again. Hunched with sadness after years of seeking love, Paolo waits onward for another day and perhaps another fleeting kiss.
There sits the sinister snake, perched like a guard placed there by the gods, guarding the eye from knowledge perhaps best left untouched. It bends slightly, like a cobra ready to strike, holding within its conclave perhaps the great Library of Alexandria itself.
There sits the crescent of the moon, shining down upon lovers sitting on a hilltop. The glimmering, twinkling lights of the letters surrounding it shine down from the heavens; the brilliant glimmer of the just-rising v on the horizon, and the soft glow of a gentle s overhead. The two lovers kiss under the guise of the pale moonsliver, their story told to others by the arrangements of the heavens above.
There sits the curled hair of a mathematician, feverishly working away at his desk, trying to solve a great problem. The hair falls from his head gently to the desk through his pencil, seperating away a construct from the rest of his thoughts. With nary a second thought, this dark thread upon the sheet of paper carries away with it sets of numbers and symbols, suddenly vanishing as the mathematician drifts onward down the page.
There sits a grown-up comma. In its youth, it took pride in merely representing a pause in ideas. Now it is grown up and married to another, who sits at the other end of the separation. With a sigh of pride, the large character leans up against a jumble of letters, keeping them inside their pen like a shepherd of old.
There sits the slightly hunched form of an elderly grandmother, full of the experiences of many years and the love of attentive grandchildren. What great wisdom do you hold just beyond the bend, my friend? In your divine, loving elderly eyes many, many truths are revealed.
There lies the sadly discarded shape of a guardian whose battle is lost. The guardian served the sentence well, but now that the all-seeing eyes have gone beyond what the guardian served to protect, he is no longer needed. Like a discarded scrap of paper, the guardian's time is up, and now he goes onto a better place. Perhaps someday, when another set of eyes come to visit the kingdom, he will rise again to guard the sacred vault of knowledge for the sentence.
The beautiful left parenthesis.