The Constricted Soul

Been thinking lately, a lot about death and how the one that matters the least is your own,
Not that it’s inconsequential, just not that relevant.
The death of circumstance is the one that counts.
Death will change everything
From your pet bird to the person that gave you life.
At some point it will take them from you, where once was a letter will be blank
Not that this comes as any surprise, you remember when you figured out that this whole mortality thing meant you as well.
Then, childlike, even death became about you.
You became singular, alone in this confrontation.
Truth is, it’s not death that confounded you but life.
Your life isn’t about you, it’s about the things you go through, including death.
But not yours.
Your life will flow and ebb, with death the tide.
And some branches will not survive, but the tree lives on.
People will come into your life and change you.
And your life.
People will leave your life and change you.
In your life.
And when you leave this life, that will not change you.

by Mike Turner

“If you feel like breaking, think of all the other dreams unfulfilled, the children unseen, the books unwritten, the work never to be done, the last nights together, the countless acres of anguish and the darkened haunted cities: consider the pity war distils and ourselves as creatures of luck, compared with the others who can gain no last moments more.”

Malcolm Lowry

“The nervous bride laughed at her husband’s nakedness. He stumbled, blinded by shame and hate. ”

Mason Cooley