Continuing...

Wouldn't it be such a joy to lift up a rock and find something so unexpectedly beautiful that you forget who you are?

Imagine, then, what you might feel, if behind the loveliness of the most breathtaking music, behind the veil of the clouds, the face of the moon, the massive, endless forever of intergalactic space, beyond and beneath and before and within the serene eyes of your beloved - there was something so lovely and unimaginable that you realize that everything you ever were, are or will be is as a tiny molecule of hydrogen in the trillionth of a second before the heat of a star's core fuses it into helium...  And that this is right and acceptable and perfect?

Imagine if you felt that way, just marveling at human imagination and ingenuity.

Imagine if you felt that way, even knowing that your wonder and joy and inspiration were electrical impulses racing through the cells of your fragile brain.  Even knowing that to close your eyes and invite the darkness of sleep is to brave the non-ness of unbeing?  Even knowing that one small fault in the inner workings of your circulatory system could easily snuff out all of your knowing and being and thinking and believing, as fleeting and miniscule as it is?

This is my prayer, my desperate, pleading prayer.  I will be this prayer, I won't just say it or create it or think it.  I am a desperate prayer of beauty and love and sadness and joy, boredom and spite, of forgiveness and ignorance and wisdom.

What do I do?  What do I do with it?  Do I turn away from my computer and kiss my husband good night and fall asleep?  Do I dream in fervent colors that nobody can see or comprehend and then forget them myself when I awaken to a banal, dirty city and a human routine?  How do I touch the impossible while still being just...  Possible?  I'm possible.  We are all so fucking possible.