I keep wondering about the world, how it feels, how it groans against the growing weight and disasters and whether the world cares.
In the moment I reach the end of my life, I’ll find the world isn’t what I thought it was, nor will I understand it any better than before I’m gone, but the fatality of the world is that there’s no saving it.
There’s no breath to make it better, no kiss to heal its wounds and after all, that’s been done, it will still be here in the middle of nowhere wasting time and spinning endlessly when we’re all gone.
In the moment of clarity that comes from meditation, I see the world in its beautiful shining glory, but no one else does, and that’s the saddest part of it all.
Within the chemical reaction that happens when things are gone, I’m gone, you’re gone and there’s nothing left, this world will still be spinning in the endlessness of space.