Pulling Mother Earth’s Hair

The Artist D
The Artist D

I stayed in bed for hours pondering all of the things we ponder. None of it seems to get any clearer. Not with age or experience. It doesn’t clear up with sobriety. I can’t say that meditation does the trick. It certainly all does something, but it hasn’t done much else.

If there is one thing to be learned by any semblance of longevity it is that this has happened before and this will all happen again.

I look back into my archives of all the friends I have had. I look closely at the encounters we shared. I take the closest look at the photos of people now dead. I read their letters. To look into those eyes and remember the exchange while knowing how they ended it. To know you’ve surpassed a person’s time on Earth is like winning a very confusing race. I’m not sure if it’s actually winning, because I don’t know where they’ve gone.

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