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.