So much ephemerality in this transcendent reality. The common truth is that we all end our journey at some point just as we all attempt to start it. Those of us who make it through the tunnel that begins life end up focusing on all the wrong parts when our vision clears.
I want to look at the small flowers and try to make things grow, but my legs feel like waterlogged roots that lead to withering of the rest of me and there’s no gardener up in the sky nor down on Earth that transfers me from this container; and all returns to darkness.
