If Everything Can Disappear
by Lynda Allen
If everything can disappear
in a moment, in the blink of an eye, without knowing it’s coming, without
saying goodbye, without warning, without.
Then what is there to hold on
to? If I hold you tightly enough can I keep you here, eternally, not going
without goodbye, but together always?
If everything can disappear
without explanation, without rhyme or reason, then how do I reason, how do I
make sense of it, of anything?
Why cling to life or you or
anyone, if it can disappear as if it never existed, as if you never existed,
leaving only the wispy threads of memory?
If everything can disappear
then clinging, grasping serves no purpose, you can only hold water in your
hands for so long before it drips away.
Yet, as I hold the water I
can feel its coolness on my palms, I can touch my lips to it and drink, I can
see my own reflection on its smooth surface.
If everything can disappear
first it must appear, appear in all its glory, in all its beauty, in all its
joy and sorrow and love and grief.
So I will drink from the
waters of life as they pass through my fingers, celebrate them, feel their joy
and grief and love and look for my reflection in you.
If everything can disappear.
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