Death

He keeps sneaking up on me. Never quite grazes my skin, but I can smell him all around. I taste him in the morning like he has been lurking overhead all night, pushing into my dreams, the scent of death on my mourning breath.

These recent days have taught me that without life there is no death. And without life, there he is, waiting for my surrender.

Life shakes me out of sleepy spells and counts my blessings for me. I have forgotten to count between the self pity and unwritten the pages so now my swollen fingers lead the way for me. I've spent so much time reading the lives of others that mine went dim in the ever fading background.

Here I stand in the shadows. Waiting for my close up, my chance to touch the world. All the while chanting, all the while meditating in the cool breeze of dawn. My blessings never left me, they just disguised themselves as the clothes on my aching back.

Life

It comes and goes (lately)

Sooner than later for some, but we still all serve a purpose somehow.

Why hesitate?

Tears

No sense in crying when I'm allergic to my own.