Hanging Amid


He were are. In the middle of something solid and sure and another that is shrouded in shadows and cracked earth. Just far enough from each that neither seems probable. But in looking at the odds, one has to manifest. How long? How? Why?

Do shitty things happen to good people? All the time. One of the unexplained injustices of the world. It is a delicate time where we are able to look at life as it is now but also recognize that it could be absent tomorrow. How rarely are we able to see the changes as they happen yet have no control over the track you are thrust upon? Life may never look the same again. As humans, the strength that shines through is our propensity is to rebuild and go on. No matter what happens we will find a way through it, even if there is no master plan, on our end anyway.

If by the cold light of day nothing chooses to exist there will still be a tomorrow. But the scenery will look foreign and the language may be unintelligible. You learn the language and you blend in with society and do what we all do. As robotic and sheep-like as it may seem. No disrespect to sheep though, they seem to have it figured out. There is no choice even in all of the choices that appear to be.

P. Pocket
~and to all a good life…


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