The world is not a cold dead place,
Do you know?
Is life forever alone? No matter how well known or dearly held one might be, in the end we are alone,
And any euphoria,
and any bliss,
and any pain,
Beyond that, there is what is.
Sweet, but until then I am confronted with life, and all its appearance of reality.
To pass through with some lightness, some joy, leaving some beauty in my wake.
All these are as distractions, overlaid on the ground of being.
Still, silent, impenetrable, alive, intimate,
and yet, alone.
A week and a day ago, Roy (named here for my reference) made a comment about the awe of being alive. It's only sharpened the edge, given some teeth to what brews beneath the surface. Off center, out of balance, and pressing on in the dark... mostly, it seems, to survive.