jan19

This life is a passing dream. Suddenly going by so fast. In the end, what will it have been for? The experiences? The lessons? The novelties? The pleasures? The pains? The knowledge? The wisdom? The feelings? The achievements? The losses? The attachments? The surrenders? The loves? The solitude? All or none of the above?

Step by step, day by day, inching towards the climax - the great release. Could be years away, could be today. The orgasm, the crescendo, the grand finale. And then...what?

What seems to matter in the end? Really? No poetry, just a straight question. What matters?
Honoring the truth in my heart.
What does that mean?
Acting from integrity, not out of some desire to gain something or avoid something else.
Is that all?
No, but it seems to matter most in the end. Being true to that something deep within. Not wasting time building some flimsy house of cards to impress or acquire in the dreamworld. Not holding onto things out of fear. Being a conduit for that tiny but unwavering voice way way down.

The journey out, and the return home. The movement away from truth and into a dream, and the movement back inward again. Back to the time before the fall. Back to the garden, to God, to truth.