Death in the Distant Future…
Or at least that is what its supposed to be. We don’t suppose
people should die at a certain age. We will witness suffering; but we know it
gets better. So, we’ve been told. Or so, we have hope that it will.
There are instances of mass tragedy. Sometimes we call that
war—maybe insanity—perhaps terrorism… We have names for it, that type of death.
Then there are the terminals. Things we think we can control—once we know the
enemy within. Or things we follow, pray
for, aim for. We hold hands for it. Or we choose to suffer with the suffering
because it matters. And it doesn’t matter how it matters.
Then there is some form of Universal Order. A tainted weird
line of fate. Perhaps mathematically calculated in everyone’s existence. No
matter how great, how menial a life on earth may appear there’s a geometric
wave—a pattern. We can involve other mathematical ideologies—Fibonacci,
perhaps. And each of our lives are formulas. Formulas appearing misunderstood.
When the tainted weird line of fate strikes—it appears out
of ‘left field’ to many of us in the living. Especially if a being is considered
young, healthy, and so forth. Our presumptions of ‘young’ vary. I believe sometimes
we are born spiritually old. Sometimes we are born just for thousands of lanes
of purpose in a short time. And anyone of those lanes strikes each one of us
differently when someone is taken into a state of unknown abyss.
Gone into the abyss of who they were here, lively, young—and
now they’re not. A sudden shift of a tidal wave of everlasting geometric force
has turned our world on its head. We need to know not to ‘get over it’. But to
go through it. For it would be selfish to not go through what has already been
shattered. We cannot always pick up life’s shards of glass once shattered. But
we can put together part of a mosaic of stained glass with those that are still
alive. We can do this—because it’s about the collective of the infinite soul. My
mother once told me that a wedding band is infinite love. Because the circle is
continuous. It has no end. So too, is the infinite soul which does exist in
infinite ways.---Jody-Lynn Reicher
You are such a talented writer.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing such an amazing
gift. Truly a privilege to rea.
Thank You Barb.
Delete