the dream of the dance

embracing mortality 

for the relief it brings

because the suffering in existence

has its end. a finality, a blessing. 

and there is no real end, 

only transformation, endless ascension

eventual absolution if you can call it that

I am comforted to know, I will age and let go

let it all slip from me

like a so very distant memory

until the screen is blank and the

game is reset

and the start is a fresh one

unless human again, unless mortal again

unless back into form.

but that formlessness, that release into the ethers

is a gift. and it is all mystery

where consciousness goes as matter composts

changing its composition and becoming nutrition

for other creatures. that magic in the balance of the dance

the dream of the dance, the longing that dwells in 

the hearts of waking ones. how will I wake up?

How will I look up when my perspective is altered 

by heavy experience interwoven into my very limited human awareness

Maybe I will look up for the clouds, the birds, the tree branches pushing at the sky

maybe I will let that be enough to liberate my perspective. 

calling back in all the beauty that eluded me when I was distracted.

becoming present for new moments. new beauty. new forms to enlist,

new ways to insist

in the meaning behind the incarnations, and that there can be peace

in these formations.