.S T A R D U S T.

A Story by :-)

writing my heart out

Every breath is a single stream of consciousness, each throbbing lungful of air caught and released back into the sky where it stalls until put to use in a flower or a tree or a cactus, though you live five-hundred miles away from any desert out there. Though inanimate, plants carry on a life of their own, distributing energy and taking in atmosphere just like the rest of us. Like the churning rapids of the Rio Grande, the very prospect of life tumbles off the tongues of nature's finest creations so carelessly it's as if rocks could one day dominate us in the natural order of things.

Humans and sediment are both so alike and insignificant that in the vast scape of the entire f*****g universe it would be no more than as if we did not exist individually at all. We are all one living, breathing creature; solitary, yet not alone. When the stardust settles in our veins, we will all then realize individuality is simply a comforting lie which every race to inhabit the earth from now will undoubtedly seek out over and over again, until our bones are part of someone else's in his own piece of the Milky Way Galaxy. Soon your bones will be praying to another's god, and there are no dead ends in an immortal existence.

(6-2-14)