In the dead of the night I look out the window & look for something living. There were but the trees & the winds blowing gently, as if reassuring me that I wasn't alone. I stared, stared & stared only to start gazing at my hands. How foreign they seem. That this warmth, this flesh wrapped around bones, the skin cladding it that I was touching, that they seem very convincingly mine. Oh, but I know better. I am a soul, this body is temporary. I feel, my body does not. I experience the world through my senses but how I interpret them, how I process them, that is my existence. That is who I am. I am a soul blown into a body, both of which a blessing from The One, The Creator. This 'life', it is utterly absurd. There is no meaning on this earth. Hence, what comes after is what is promised to us. Why we must strive to simply be on this earth & preserve our souls the best we can, to remember what we've forgotten, so we we could return to that beyond.
So we live.
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