|Posted by AeonFlame on September 27, 2009 at 4:22 PM||comments ()|
I awoke a few minutes ago. Might seem so simple a thing, to shrug off the fog of slumber, but linger with me a while, in the strange colours of thought that find you in those half minutes of almost opaque lucidity. I lay there, awash by a soft tangent of light from my window. The sort of silvery light that settles like a hushed gossamer veil on afternoons like this, when the sky is gilded by bright steely rainclouds,relieved of their burden.
I felt my heart beat, in those sleepy minutes. It was distant at first, like the low grumble of thunder far away, but as I became more awareof its steady insistent rhythm, it grew. I lay there feeling that sound, for this is the best way to describe it, half a feeling.. half a sound. Its relentless throbbing, ticking away the seconds of my mortality. The hours of my life.
I grew solemn, thoughtful now, in that steely half light from my window. And often as I do, I pondered the passage of life, grimly imagining the weakening of this very heart and then.. cessation. I have realized long ago, that the thought of death does not discomfort me more than the prospect of growing old, the feeling of oncoming inevitability that becomes as much a presence in one's life as the sound of one's own heartbeat. I have though, accepted in thought, (possibly merely in theory) that if I were to learn of the day of my death, it would be no more comforting and no better than the lingering uncertainty.
And as the human mind sometimes does, like mine had merely minutes ago, I wondered If somehow it would have been better not to exist, or have existed at all. To not know of the ascent and descent of the treacherous mountain that is life. For a moment, this thought hung like an epiphany in my mind, albeit moot.As it happened however, these thoughts faltered, waned in the flood of feeling that followed. In that beautiful light from my window, I beheld my answer. I saw it in the silvery clouds, and tasted it in the wind that bore the promise of rain. I breathed it in the air made pure by forests I have walked in. I felt itin the beating of my heart and I feel it in the love that flows through my veins. Life is a gift. We have no control over how we come to be, but while it is ours, we must make every second count. Live to be alive, and not merely exist.
And at the end, know that we have lost nothing, but gained the world.
Life is beautiful.