This heart will cease to offer measure for the dance of my life.This breath will still from its long discourse with the sweet earth’s atmosphere. This mind will unravel from the lifespan coil of my story.
Yes, we are going to die. Our narration has a final page, and then a sigh perhaps, for those who enjoyed its candor – its rhythm. We are the authors of our Life’s work. Its inspiration is our contribution. I want to make mine a labor of love. I want my composition to be an original. I wish I could make it funny, but humor is not my gift. So I’m aiming for thoughtful and good natured, caring and uncompromising, compassionate and courageous. I hope the critics don’t proclaim (as they often do of creative works); “Ambitious, but falls short.”
I want to live each day in the shadow-less light of forgiveness from yesterday. At night I want to give myself over to sleep without attachment to the plot of my narration as a practice for the big ‘giving over’ that will wake me from the dream of this life. I want to help others to remember that this ‘now’ is all we have. All that 'was', has passed away. Time steals every moment from us like a little death. And that little death is followed by the new birth of the 'now'. We are reborn every instant. Forgive yourself from what has been so that you can allow the newness of the now to shine its full potential through you! The more we die to the old, the more we make way for the new. I open my eyes, like a newborn, to see... what a miracle gift each precious moment is, in this ever-changing Universe.
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