Sometimes I Wonder

Sometimes I wonder about my place in it all. The day to day of my life. Waking, sleeping, eating, talking. Am I really doing these things? Is it I that chooses to do these things? What am I? Am I over when my heart stops? Endless questions with no answers. Thoughts interrupted with... hunger, or fatigue. My shoes are dirty, my clothes are dirty, I'm dirty. Time to take a shower. Where does it all lead. I'm stuck broke and broken, rotting fetid flesh. Uninspiring and uninteresting.

Then Sometimes I notice something, or someone, or some moment that can only be described as remarkable. Beautiful. Melancholy. Odd that it happened in such an uninteresting life. But existence is remarkable. Like the way the hill looks covered in fresh green grass in summer. The sunshine broken by lazy clouds. The way the grass moves with the wind. The sounds of the world, the birds, and the air, and the rustling of the rocks beneath my feet.

Yes. Sometimes I do belive the world is amazing and remarkable. I have children, and each one so different. So curious, or bored, or creative, or cruel, or kind. Children tend to be a lot of whatever they are. So young with such a future. Anything they can be.... they can be. And that's beautiful. I hold my son, he's still 2 years old, in my arms. Less frequently does he ask to be held, or to be still long enough to hold an embrace. Only 2 years old, almost 3, and he's already done with me. What am I to do then? Who am I to be?

Life is depressing, dull, and amazing and beautiful at the same time. And it's happening everywhere, all at once, to everybody. We're all living a different life, in the same world. Isn't that remarkable. So I guess I want to bring a smile to my children. A kind word to a stranger. Or a helping hand to a friend. I want to die and be missed. To leave behind happiness. I guess that's called grief. Odd, to want to leave that behind.