You indulge and lose yourself in the moment. You expand and
become a creature unknown yet familiar; an inbred, a faded brother or sister
who, somehow, looks terribly like you.
Whose is the sky you bathe your skin in? Do you remember
painting it to life, or smelling through and around it, determining which scent
soothes your mind and nourishes your soul?
Do you recall being through it, experiencing it and
conquering it, or someone put it there like a wallpaper of the stage set named
life? Who set that milestone there? Why are your feet moving so fast right now? Can you breathe?
You can breathe.
But also invite pain. Your body is now so
wounded, so gushed and nicked. Scratches and breaks carry mislead effort.
Breathing associates with pain because you listened so very late; so late. But, it’s never late enough.
A brother earned, spoke of constant evolution. Time is a
conception. As a conception it is not true, but it is true enough.
That granted, how would you suggest we freeze it? I see you
all placing it to an icy frame, way back or way ahead. You fear it and attempt
to domesticate it. For it will harm you? Well, guess what. While you’re busy fighting it with
borrowed tooth and nail, it does harm you. It leaves you used up, and empty,
and faceless; unremembered and alone.
The best route to solitude and inner reflection,
surprisingly enough, is openness; it’s the understanding others.
The moment, life itself, is not an allowance. It’s not a
scheduled vacation. You’re in it already, it’s on live now, and you’re wasting
it, one breath at a time. Surrender and be surprised and never worry of death
and endings.
