Things only change

 

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Trees grow next to each other. Their roots and branches may touch and intertwine.

But they are each alone.

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Things only change.
I am moved to tears by everything.
What part of this soup am I?
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On conscious thought, I realize, nearly nothing matters to me.
What am I actually seeking?
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Intense desires fall away to leave empty space
where questions bubble to the surface intermittently, momentarily then leave empty space again.
I wish that what I thought I wanted was real so I could go on and keep wanting it and fill the emptiness with a lasting goal.
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Things only change.
Intense desires evaporate to leave me wondering what part of this soup I am.
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In the end, you possess nothing.
Entrance, action, exit.
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I try not to think about the future.
I try to stay present in the richness of each moment.
But I have a prefrontal lobe like everyone else and it
wants to be used to consider things beyond the present.
The future – in my mind it appears,
more or less,
as stable ground,
until September,
where land suddely drops away
to reveal an unforgiving cliff,
beyond which is a black abyss.
Nothing known.
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I imagine that past September may be the end of me.
My personal armageddon.
But perhaps it only appears as such,
and as I fall into what I believe is my certain demise,
I will suddenly find a rocky ledge to grasp and
hoist my tired body onto safe ground.
Or maybe, maybe I will plummet straight into a crystal clear pool of warm water. Spend the rest of my life floating along next to fish and dolphins.
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Or possibly! There will be people, people I love, standing below with their arms reaching to the sky. I fall into their massive embrace. We shout out in excitement, we hold each other, sing and dance, and spend the rest of our years celebrating the simple fact of having each other.
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