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I looked up into the night sky, recognizing the house, the car, the memories, my life, are all temporary.   The family, the career, the love, and me – all temporary.

I could hear her words in my mind as if she were speaking to me, through no less than twenty years of distance.  “We fight against the laws of the universe to create some permanence. Why? Too fight for permanence is futile.  Why struggle against the inevitable?”

I hadn’t understood at the time, not as well as I do now. The rules call for the plow under, for transition, and a moving forward.

She took my hand and held it out, shaping it into the form of a cup.  “Does a flower contemplate the impermanence of its existence?”

She took my hand and said, “Enjoy the fleeting moment of the Sun on your face, a shared smile, a touch, kindness and good company.”

Stretching her fingers across the sky, she looked at me. “No one lives forever or makes a lasting mark on history’s long, long memory, where more is forgotten than is recorded.”

Falling back onto the grass, she laughed. “Nothing can be greater than the whole. We are all of the system.   Flowers futilely yearning for some permanence beyond the beauty we bring during our time in the light.”

I looked at her in amazement. The beauty of her thoughts, the wisdom they grew from aroused feelings within me – a desire to claim her favor and affection.

Still looking into the sky, she said, “To live in the illusion, is to think we are not.   It will all be plowed under, alike, to fertilize the next wonderful moments that will sprout into the open air of the Universe.”

Despite the connection I was feeling in that moment, I furrowed my brow and replied, “I simply don’t understand.”

She looked at me and smiled.  Her eyes narrowing as she focused on my obvious shortcomings.  “Nonetheless, you must understand and come to terms with it.”

By malakhai jonezs
(C) copyright 2017


  1. When you’re a kid, you think the world revolves around you…it’s a sad awakening when you learn just how insignificant you are, like one grain of sand on an endless beach.
    “It will all be plowed under,” pretty well says it all.
    Great story, M…very insightful.

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