“We shouldn’t worry about making plans for they fall through with regularity. You already know that. The only wise plan is to become a better person. And that plan falls through, too. Grace is the plan of plans.”
I wrote that to a friend, thinking she was other than myself! That is one telling of the cosmic joke, isn’t it?
Bare awareness beckons me these days. Crooks its finger at me and whispers, “Come….”
Dare I fall into the arms of this skeleton? This bony scariness that is the remains of what used to be?
All dreams die here. All knowledge turns to dust. And the skeleton begins to dance.