Every so often, you may find that The humans, in their various manifestations Of desires, vulnerabilities, shortcomings, and even Hopefulness and Beauty --- Are simply far Too Heavy --- You immerse in it, daily, Like wading, knee-high, in an air Filled by Molasses. But every so rarely, you may discover Creature companions of sorts, Whose dimensions only spare them Very plain needs: To eat, to drink, and if ever so lucky, To wander and play, Mindlessly --- Free from Love and Grief, Free, in the absence of time, Nowhere, and Everywhere.
Is it really true---what they say,
“One life ends, Another one begins.”
If so, is it the best one could wish for?
We live in a strange reality, one in which the best lessons are taught with loss and death. We survive the perished, and live our days breathing leftover air.
We go to different places, make new bonds, start and restart new lives---each a second chance, all to one way or another, make up for what we could not rescue in the first place.
"We'll do it Better this time."
It's not so sad as it is bittersweet, like the passing and rebirthing of seasons.
” There is no possibility that any perceptible change will happen within our own life time. We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future.
We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. “
There is no Pill
That can fix
One can run,
Into the open,
Escape the slaving dungeon,
Follows, and condenses
Wherever He should
Lay to Rest—
One can forever
Only to realize
A Life’s Time
Is not enough
So Young one,
You and your
Take to the Strenuous strides;
Learn to work
But resting in Light.