In the end, we are all just souls. Divesting ourselves from our red blood cell cages and bending the calcium which whitens our bones. In the end, our trappings fall away like 4th of July bunting in the orange leaves of the fall. We are left, then, to fly. Toward starlight, toward sweetness, toward dust or heaven. To believe in the finality of the suffering and the joy we create – simply by being and then by not being.
We leave tiny tsunamis in our wake. Each footstep, though universally small, bends a blade of grass or moves a pebble. We amble along impervious to how we impact everything and nothing all at once.
Someone will always remember your name.
Sometimes we choose haphazardly, our actions. Never intending a permanent scars , but causing them nonetheless. We are not helpless to assist in healing, to cover our wicked handiwork in vines and flowers and make it into something beautiful. It is our choice to do so , it is our choice to accept it when it is offered. It is our to accept responsibility in our happiness, to forgive and extend tender mercies. It is also our choice to follow Kenny Rogers and know when to fold ‘em. We control our reactions, even if we can’t control the happenstance.
I turn these thoughts, these things, over in my hands and they slide over my fingers like water. This girl, who never believed in her worth, realizes what bullshit this self defeat. I touch, as I am touched. I inspire as I am inspired. I matter. I shake, I come apart, I come back together and in the beauty of all that are my choices. I fuck up with grace and live with bumbling humility. I strive to choose better, so I do. Bless this life and my choosing to be present. Bless yours, too, traveler. Your road and mine may intersect. I promise my best to you, but above that. I promise my best to me.