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existential musings

Deep in the night, the fragility, the mystery of our tiny lives washes over me.

The futility of those strong, deep markers we draw into these lives, – like lines drawn on a sandy beach before the tide comes in.

Birth, education, family, friends, accomplishment, suffering, joy, death.

A sprinkling of decades, if we are lucky. Perhaps some laughter. Some joy. Some love. Less disease. Less failure. Less violence.

For myself, I don’t mind the mystery, the pain, the fear, the whistling of wind through vacant space.

For my child, my heart cannot bear to carry the burden of mortality.

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