Life Itself

I sit inside my silence, not even awake, maybe, waiting patiently for the cocoon to open, not eager, not afraid.

I wait.

Photo by Matthew Smith on Unsplash

What is tomorrow, if not another today, or yesterday, just one more random access memory?

Life is that silence, and that waiting, and there is no now or later, only a continuum of time, woven with your soul.

See?

Now is already gone.

Slumbering in my cocoon, I dream of all the things that merit living, and that dream, that slumber, is life itself.