To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist. That is all. (Oscar Wilde)
I’ll get up in a minute.
Or two, or three, or… A minute has been redefined. It has been carved from the clock and thrown into infinity. And no longer has meaning.
A line of pink appears on the horizon. Then two more. Parallel stripes. They don’t stay. Like the existence that passes before this old body faces the day.
I toss blankets aside. The weight of my past had been keeping me down, pressing into my dreams.
The pink in the sky has already faded. Its beauty passes. Nevertheless, another day begins. Another chance to grab the dark, the light, and the unexpected. Then create with each possibility.
terrypetersen 