As we mourn the passing of our immortality,
Grieve what it means to have felt invincible,
We begin to embrace more fully,
What we also are:
Bubbles in the wind.
We are supposed to go,
Floating into the clouds and settling upon rocks,
Nebulous and resilient all at once.
Seeds in a pod.
The appropriate light, heat and water,
To burst free and pass hopefully, gracefully,
Through an elephant's gut,
To germinate in its poop.
For now, more than ever,
It is clearer
That i am because we are.
Where i ends and we begins,
Is a mystery i am yet to decipher.
I live the question now.
For if i am;
The dust and
What i am is beyond me.
I am living the question now.
Published by appamprawns
soni writes about children and people in controlled spaces, in his quest for appam stew.
homi writes in the hope of being able to buy prawns to make patiyo.
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