The World Outside

Since my stroke, I deal with a shrunken world. Surprisingly, a shrunken desire to visit, also has emerged; I'd buy a coffin to hold in readiness, but I'll be cremated and a cardboard box is all I need, I'm told, for that. Here's my dollar bill. Were I from India, a barge could take me to the current in the Ganges where fire upon the water sanctifies the journey to transmogrify a western soul, afixing it forever to the earth. Within the bubble of my consciousness, however, my universe embraces endless joy, and it is yours, as well. To quantify reality in any way succombs to madness. Somewhere, someone has it figured out. The wind is at his back; he knows impassively that there is singing in the hills, and always there are problems to give life to every celebration planned, and right behind someone to love and demonstrate compassion. Someone. Someone to teach us to listen. Someone... Please, let there always be Someone ~