When I was young and full of intent I always found a way to find a way. Now that I'm waning in the sky of my life, I find I'm more inclined to let the way find me.
I can recall with vigor how voraciously I pursued the ideology that we are born and as such, begin to die. I can also recall with vigor countering that view with the fact that we live, alive, and continue to do so until we do not anymore.
On one hand the glass is half empty, on the other it is half full.
Frankly, at this point, I find all of that horseshit funny.
Perhaps the ultimate truth is simply that the water remains. One way or the other.
The glass is indifferent.
Keep writing, dear friend.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, every thread does count.
Your words fit like a cozy, old and familiar sweater.
ReplyDeleteAlways smitten.