Spinning here, dust of the dust, our rock clade facades are as frail as an egg. Contained in this thin shell is all of ourselves. What gives us the notion of self? In all the universe, why should this meager collection of matter separate itself as an “I”?
It seems a gift and a burden. Yet I strive for strength, clarity and belonging. The struggles just blend into noise while I strive. I only want to pull myself into the light, no matter how brief or small.