Something

There's always something. Even when there's nothing.

Especially when there's nothing.

But it gets drowned out by all the noise

And the sights and the smells and the tastes.

You have to let nothing happen for somthing to be seen

And heard

And felt.

Breaths. Long and deep. They keep you alive.

But they're so much more than that.

Breaths put you in constant contact with the universe.

They ensure that the ancient particles never stop flowing through you.

Feel the oneness. The unity.

You are the universe.

Unimaginably vast, old beyond comprehension.

Full of

So

Much

Nothing.

But in amongst all the nothing are a hundred thousand million billion trillion somethings.

More.

Infinite.

My life, ephemeral, but

A little something that adds to the beauty of it all.

Death.

She is not the enemy.

Just like exhaling isn't the end

Only the beginning

Creating space for the next breath.

Tears.

Crying.

Wracking sobs.

Tearing at yor core

Breathless

Twisted

Contorted

Contracted into a little ball of humanity

Of being

Of living matter.

It is the price we pay.

It is learning to let go.

To get the goods you have to release the money.

Nothing is truly free.

Or everything is.

It's about how you give and receive

Open yourself to the flow.

Reap what you sow.

The future is bright.

If we ebb with the tide.