End of happiness

There is nothing to escape, and there is nothing to find.
It is within, though we are often without, spending unending
Months of our live blind. Coming to grips with my own end
Has been a daily exercise for years: letting go of the self, letting go of the fears. We are, and perhaps ‘what’ IS the meaning of life.
That we live at all is a miracle unfolding in flesh. Worn fingertips, yellowing teeth, interrupted sleep, hot flashes beneath. In this world, our only, will come a time in which an event so catastrophic, so all encompassing, so overwhelmingly powerful, and so widespread, that simply before and after will suffice without qualifiers. Such is an individual life. Such is mine. Such is yours. Which picture do you prefer? Would a time machine erase the choice altogether? Watch me fumble. Watch me falter. Watch me fail. Do, fail, reflect. Learn, grow, DO! Up in the air wafts the peace that surpasses all understanding. Down stream is the sand from beneath your toes. Breathe. My eyes hurt, as do yours. My ears are failing, as are yours. My life is before and after, as is yours.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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1 Response to End of happiness

  1. ned says:


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