
Of Life
This morning I woke on the other side of life.
Yesterday isn’t even a faint memory, and right now, I have no ask of a tomorrow.
This feels good, this feels right, this feels just.
I see the progression. Good makes sense when juxtaposed against bad. Right feels good as opposed to wrong. And while just may have an opposite in what is unjust, I see it as natural being-ness. That to me feels absolute, just, perpetually complete.
Right now, I cannot but love life. Right now, I cannot but love you. Right now, I cannot but love. With love, perhaps I can finally learn to love myself. Eternally.
Perhaps I will never sleep, nor therefore ever wake. Perhaps there will be no other side to life.
It is true; there is no other. One.