I love this glass...
but for me this glass
is already broken -
when I understand
that this glass
is already broken
every minute is precious. Ajahn Chah
We have become dream walkers skating on the surface of our lives.
I can understand why some children fight mightily the night against sleep. They fear not waking up, and they, only new to this world, are anxious with curiosity.
Mutant cellular body snatchers.
Broken glass reflected in death - my mirror image - suddenly all was precious. The feel of my feet on the grass, the ease of my breath, the opera sung by the birds outside my window, the caress of the breeze, the feel of my husband's hand in mine, the gaze that spoke with no words. Life.