existence remembered

The words leave, drifting atop my misconceptions. I am looking backwards.

Why did we come here?

Was it only to see if being human was a strange fad, something new for our soul to do? Or was it something real and lasting and developed from a wanting, from a need to exist inside a space filled with wonder and amazement?

Why are we here? Ask yourself that question without waiting for the answer. Speak the truth to yourself without hesitation. Let the wind hear you, me, us. Because at the end of it all, even the gods will kneel before us, endlessly wondering how we made it through.

They will discover that we fought our way through with the sword of love. Because that is the only thing that could keep us here, the love-fight; that need to recreate our authentic soul existence on Earth.

We came here because of the remembering.

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parallel universe

In the space of memory resides the fence we stand atop, teetering on the edge between hard ground and water. In that space we remember the moments that embrace us before we have a chance to embrace them. They catch us unaware and ask us the hard questions we’re not ready to answer.

Why do you feel?

I feel because my joy stitches the wounds of my pain, and salves them into healing. My joy mercilessly threads itself through the flesh of agony, reminding me that in time, the scars may not fully disappear, but they will no longer be noticeable to the world, nor to me. They will be seen only in quiet moments, when the sun is high, or the night stand lamp casts a light over the flesh of my ancient wound.

My joy spoons itself into the mouth of my sorrows, provisions to save it from starvation and death. I am intertwined inside myself, mixed in with everything I have ever seen or known. I am my happiness; I am my disappointments.

Another word is needed, one that melds this essence of me; a word that says, I am everything all at once, in this moment—in this parallel universe.

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your lies

Your lies won’t save you from death. You will die anyway. Death is the great truth teller. When it comes, all you will know in that moment is the truth; which is, you will soon be gone, into the wind, into oblivion, into another existence, into…

Whatever you go into, it will be the ultimate and final truth. You cannot lie to someone about your own dying.

Bravely be authentic and honest while here.

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the thinning web

The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones don’t groan. They hang on to elusive time and love spent dry. The thinning web spreads through veins, lengthening along a stretch of miles, traveling at the speed of blood. The blood needs the darkness to cleanse and the light to live. And breathe. It needs me inside you, nestled into a place we thought we’d lost forever.

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