Black Garden

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Oh thee, living life in such a way as fangs upturned,

Those, the wolves who’ve not yet earned the blood drenched fears of the morning not yet come.

I pity your hands whose work is not yet done.2018.2.22- Black Garden.jpeg

I  often consider the possibility if things turn out a bit differently. Should I have done such and such thing, would my world be drastically different if I had never done this insignificant task?

I pose a question to you today, first, as yourself as I have:

What would my life be like had I not done (any series of events that your have been a part of or have seen.)?

Then, when you’ve answered that question, consider this.

Life is here. It is daunting. There are things within each of our own lives that are difficult to fathom.

How a man can arm himself and enter a school, with the intent to kill innocent children, convicted of no crime? How can the world around not stop to see that it was one of our own children, or friends, how can we continue along these paths that we see lead nowhere?

How can one we love betray us?

How can we continue to argue over the world when our words are used so frequently they have lost all meaning?

How can we wake up the new day, and tell it of our discoveries?

How can we venture to a new world bravely, with nothing to show in our past but cowardice and pain?

How can we heal?

How can we rebuild?

How can we recover?

How can we breathe again?

How can we ask ourselves any of these questions without first considering this…

You are here. now.

Hold your loved ones tight, tonight. Keep them close. The reality is that this world is cruel and unforgiving. The longer we spend within our own minds, worrying about timelines that don’t exist, the closer we come to extinction or eradication, whichever chooses to pull the trigger first. In my final days I will not be wondering how differently my life could have gone, no matter the pain or the tremors within it.

Those things which have come to pass will be as such tomorrow. Tomorrow there is time to consider the possibility of butterflies. Tonight, you must hold those you have. You must love them. You must be here. you must be now.

Because when tomorrow comes to you asking for a word, you may no longer have a breath to give.

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