It is my life but it is stripped back a little or a lot. It is still my life. I still want coffee. I still yell in my car at people driving stupidly. But some former sheen or, what is it? veil? is gone or peeled back, or lifted up... and I can see more closely.
How everyone struggles. How close we all are...to...I don't know. I'm a poet, death was always a concept, an inevitable concept, or something some of us danced around and dallied with. It was close because we chose it to be close to us, and when and if we could, we walked away. Some of us didn't, couldn't. Some chose it that way.
But now I am closer. Or at least I feel it more. I see it in so many more faces. The struggle to stave it off, balancing that with the pain of living. It is harder sometimes, for some people.
It stands to reason, if a person considers herself closer to the source of life (by way of spirituality, creativity, etc.), she must also consider that she is closer to death. Source is source.
Your perspective is so matter of fact, and honest. Thank you for that.
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