It’s ever-amazing to be alive. To realize that I remain alive. To look at my body and marvel at how it ever got this far. To yet sit under a blazing Sun and ponder how, some day, its glorious form of existence and my soul’s own energy will be nearer to being One. To drink a beer and reflect on how I could never ever ‘drink it all’ and understand that there will be plenty of beer remaining when I’m gone. To imitate god-hood, be intimate with other god-hooders: blazon new expanses of the heart, leaps of the mind, ascendancies of the psyche, and combustions of core-knowing. See destiny as a Mobius ring and glide, glide, glide. Scream ‘fuck’ at the least expected moments—knowing that it’s not a crime. Take a can of spray-paint to the Art Museum and add to all the works of the Masters and watch those works come alive. (Wait. Backspace over that. I got carried away a bit. It’s easy to do when life is so amazing.) To wander forsaken orchards and freely pick and munch on apples and pears and peaches from off the feral trees. To treasure-probe abandoned farm houses and forgotten debilitated mansions overgrown with entrapping vines and exotic weeds. To stare at the night sky and watch the constellations realign, never perceptibly but in the eye of Time. And to truly know what it is to be high. To be high and on the verge of, if not in the embrace of, Love.
Yes. It is God-so-great to be alive.
Recent Comments