Pyramid
Here is a pink pyramid.
If you are standing at the bottom, looking up at the dramatic form of it all, you might think something like, “Well now, this is interesting.”
Perhaps you would then begin to ascend what you believe to be stairs before you. As you climb the stairs, however, you notice that they do not rise straight ahead of you, as normal stairways do, but that they shift at an angle. You find it unnerving and disorienting. You begin to puzzle over the experience. “That's odd,” you think, “stairs shouldn't behave this way. Did I unknowingly imbibe some type of psychoactive drug?” You then make a promise to yourself that you will change your promiscuous, inattentive dining habits with unsavory folks.
“Well,” you continue, “maybe this is actually a work of compelling architecture, which encourages me to really anticipate what amazing item awaits me at the peak of this twirling staircase. Certainly this was created to help cleanse my cognitive palate, so that I can fully appreciate the treasure which must be held atop the apex.”
You soon reach the top—after all, it's not that high, and if you truly couldn't see the top from the bottom, I would recommend that you have your vision checked by an ophthalmological professional in the near future—yet you find nothing but the tiny, pointed top of the pyramid. You glance around the dark void around you, uttering to yourself, “Is that it, then?”
“That's it!” replies a voice.
“Excuse me?” you question the seemingly empty space around you.
“Oh, sorry. I'm down here,” says the voice. It is the tiny top of the pyramid speaking to you. “I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to ascend my pink prismatic spiral pyramid.”
“Ah. All right, then. You're welcome.”
After taking a few beats to digest the realization that you have just spoken with a faceless, mouthless tetrahedron, you take another look back down, and you realize that you cannot see the way from which you arrived.
“Excuse me,” you say, “but do you know the way out? I think I'm about ready to leave.”
“Oh, you can't leave.” says the tiny pyramid top. “You began the climb, and you have completed the climb. Now, the climb is all there is. We are one, now.”
There is a flash of light, and your human form begins to glow. You anxiously look down at your hands in time to see them self-illume. A blooming, blinding light grows out from your skin, impairing your ability to see the defined shapes of your fingers. Before you lose the sense of sight—to either the blindness of extreme light, or because your tangible biological faculties of vision are collapsing; you aren't sure—you realize that your entire body is widening and changing. You feel yourself go limp and, like a sweeping froth of gelatin, you begin pouring back down the steps to where you began your ascent. As you reach the lowest layer, you ooze below it, and, like glowing batter settling into a broad cooking pan, your form expands to create a new layer of the pyramid; a new step; the widest, bottommost step. The light around you fades, and you contemplate your new self. This is the first time you have ever been a non-human entity, so the whole thing is kind of a big deal for you. Epochs pass as you wonder at your existence.
The tiny pyramid top contemplates itself as well. Every few centuries, you wonder how the tiny pyramid top came to be. If only you could communicate with your brother and sister steps. Imagine the stories they could tell.
After countless eons, your contemplation of self is interrupted by a bizarre feeling. At first, you can't understand it—since the physical sensations of being a monochromatic layer of sentient, abstract geometry are still so mysterious to you—but then a certain assurance washes over you. You know this feeling. It is the same feeling you felt when you strolled alongside a passerby on the street; the same feeling you used to have when a friend entered your periphery of vision; these strange, welcome sensations from long ago, from another life. The sensations of novel companionship.
A foot steps upon you, gently.
You experience the most amazing feeling you have ever felt in your eternity of being pink polygonal strata. An overwhelming electricity of rapturous emotion floods every quanta of your being. “This is the moment I was made for!” you exclaim within your own essence.
No sooner is the foot placed on your edge than it again rises away from you. The abrupt connection between you and this footed being is severed, and the energy within you fades ever so deliciously. You then wait, in a haze of inexplicable gratitude and anticipation, for the oozing, pouring batter of this new compatriot to return, joining you at the steps.
Oh, and I put some rainbow colors in there because I thought it looked cool.