One of the absolutes is that there is no permanence anywhere in existence.
Watch the birth and death of the stars, planets, moons, people, love while the beat goes on without an end or a beginning.
Listen to how music is ever changing, ever evolving, as if it breathes and creates its own birth and death in us, who become spectators to our very own creations.
Notice how he, the life I’m holding nestled warmly in the center of my chest with chubby fingers curled around my hair, breathes all on his own and will and does and did find his own happiness, love, pain, hurt, and art.
Because the acceptance of the knowledge of the endless birth and death of all things,
As we are pulled by the polar emotions like magnets pulling to merge with one another.
That is evolution.
We feel ecstatic when we satisfy each sense. We trust in our attraction to guide us to that expansion.
And we will never remember where we came from,
But we will always know it in a way that the only way to express it is in our creations
Through song,
Through ink and lead, color and image
Through story,
Through our mistakes,
And through the way we love.

I settle my crossed ankles out to the coffee table and sink low onto the couch with my body pulsing with each inhale and exhale.
And that’s it.
No glamour.
It is what it is,
And that’s the beautiful and the sublime that Fitzgerald most cryptically told me about last night.
And my confession is…
I like to visit that fantastical world sometimes, but every time I return to the moment, I hear myself breath.

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