In the beginning,
I saw through a lens of a child
I thought with the ideas of a childlike mind and yet,
I am not so different now than I was then –
still eager, still teething,
still learning and still watching the world unfold
which happens as they say “one day at a time.”
Or so they tell me.
In the beginning,
I saw through the eyes of a small boy and yet,
I am grown now and though I have grown
I am still that boy, growing, evolving,
hopefully transforming and yet
I am still me with the same core
the same heart, the same lungs
and with the same blood
which keeps me alive.
In the beginning,
it was just the beginning and having slept and woke
and reappeared; I am at the face of a new beginning
and, therefore, I am young again
(if I choose to be).
In the beginning there was light,
or there was dawn, or the sunrise and at the moment,
I see this minute as pivotal, or promising
or possibly an exit or an off-ramp
from a ride that’s gone on entirely too long.
This is just a concept, I know
a moment of recognition;
in which case, I fully recognize that there’s a choice
to live, or to exist
to be alive or to just coincide
or go along.
In the midterm or middle,
I wonder if I knew where I was
or how short time really is.
I wonder if anyone knows how it goes – the world,
the puppets on a string,
the suggestions of impulse,
the lens we see through
which has been predisposed,
biased or predetermined
and yet; like it or not
we follow our predictions without presuming that,
hey, maybe we should give our assumptions a break.
(You think?)
In the middle,
I wonder if we understand the distance between us.
I wonder if we understand the meaning of distance;
as in the span between now and then
as in the extent between time and space;
in which case, what is space anyway?
What is it?
It’s nothing . . .
other than the unlimited extent
or room of vastness
in this cosmic phenomenon,
which we call life.
And if this is life then this is life
Well then
Be alive and well. Not existing but living.
Not afraid but aware
Or not aware but understanding that in fact,
life is not rigid or inflexible
Life is not uncompromising but
we should never compromise;
not when it comes to us –
our existence.
There is a beginning to everything
and in the beginning,
whether this begins with the first day or the last,
there’s a space between us
which we can fill with whatever we choose.
This is life.
This is us and . . .
this is the substance of what keeps us together.
This is the filler between now and then
and while I find myself here,
searching for the evidence of truth,
I have come to the recognition
that I am farther from the beginning yet
everything I know of has only just begun.
I am here, looking through a lens,
which is the same now as it has always been
Always wishing. Always hoping.
Always waiting for the door to open
and something new to reappear.
I am not so young or so old nor in between;
therefore, if this is life,
then I reserve the right to keep my life as timeless
and thus, if this is life,
I reserve the right to earn each second
and make them count.
If this is life,
I have the right to do one of two things –
I can choose to live
or I can simply exist
or slip into the abyss of common, everyday things
and be as commonplace or muted and flat
or unremarkable or uninspired as anyone else
on this conveyor belt.
Or, I can live. I can breathe.
I can choose a new song
I can see things as new,
as in for the first time ever.
It has become evident to me
that whether I live or exist
or whether I choose to be young
or grow old and allow myself to whither or stand –
if I am to live . . . then I am to live.
If I am to live, then let me live this way –
here, right now, at the line between future and past,
alive.
Let me live as best as I can.
Let me abandon everything behind
me and hold everything in front of me.
Let me enjoy this, please.
Let me think freely.
Let me enjoy the absence of mind
and the presence of self
or to live for the moment
without wondering what comes next
or thinking about what happened yesterday
Or,
let this moment be sufficient for itself
without any cross examination or dissecting ideas,
no overthinking or anxiously sinking
into the unresolved tensions
of a soul who has lost their way.
Let me be this – still, and in the moment.
I see you . . .
I’ve heard from the soldiers of your past
They’ve told me about the wars you’ve fought up until now,
which is where you are,
in a battlefield of no retreat yet,
you’ve surrendered or succumbed
to this one valid truth: This is where you are now.
This is you: still learning, still growing and evolving.
Still afraid to sleep without a light on somewhere
Still hoping for one more chance –
to make everything right…
.
The Written Addiction 