Rise above the glorious skies and soar. The darkness fills the soiled mind as I fall.

The moment I gasp my last breath, peace, an eternal awakening, something that I have forgotten. Lifted to the buoyancy, indescribable and infinite. Transported to a state of existence and nothingness. I could not have imagined it better, but the last days on earth gave way to secrets. I knew I was dreaming of something wonderful, a creation of sorts. My creation, my reality, my happiness, my plank of the afterlife.

The white lamp, in a shape of a seashell, on my dresser looked different to me, like I had the ability o see through it and into it, be split from and part of it. Everything exudes energy, even the things we build. The house. The bed. The floor underneath our feet. We are part of them as they are part of us. One constant, one equation, one dot. I am one dot, part of it, part of you, part of the universe, ever-expanding and contracting, reoccurring and disappearing, infinite and defined. Everything of contradiction and similarity. A unified voice, an echo no one hears.

What do I have to gain from telling this story, after all, I am already dead? A conduit of consciousness riveting through space, an interstellar journey, an odyssey where we all meet. Like stars blinking in a distance in Morse code, letting each other know of our existence. But, then again, part of each other, together as one. It’s being one and the same yet different. Yet apart.

The image of what I relay and construct, of what a physical likeness it can take. Being lifted into skies, the clouds, the brightness of the sun, and then beyond the atmosphere into the planetary pull. Gravity contained and disintegrated, floating among the starts and vastness. Darkness and light, all at once and nothing at all. The missed emotion of belonging. The loved ones gather as I suspend in time and space. They struggle to cope with my passing but I am fulfilled and at peace. No joy or discontentment. Pure bliss, serenity. A place where I should belong. A place I created o belong. A place that is to belong.

It always exists even when we are alive and breathing, disagreeing or at war, taking or giving. Inherently we always belong to it, aware or mindlessly. We always belong. Like the mutter that we cannot comprehend or register. The white noise of our existence. Surrounded and submerged. Living within and outside of it. But, all around us. Life, light, energy, transformed, not created or destroyed… existing.

The image of me assembled into brightness, like light, shining and then dimness in the vastness. I am here and I am there, then gone, and somewhere else. In an instant, in a blink. I have a form that cannot be contained, that breaks time, space, a thought. I can form and bend. I can stretch and sink. I can be aware and just exist for a moment, for eternity. The image of what I interpret: stillness, planked in a moment with possibilities, and with every move to feel those constant possibilities. Never-ending, never vanishing, never evading. Imagine a world and I am there watching, passing through it. In a moment, I can make time stand still and absorb the space, the people in it, their feelings, their doubts, their fears. But it is all meaningless because it’s all bliss at the end. It’s all life at the end: the misery and struggles, the fighting and the pain. Life to educate, to learn, to experience, and I should have taken it as joy and gathering of appreciation. Life to connect with others, with nature, with the planet, with the vast enduring space.

I should have given gratitude more and blameless. I should have prayed more, but not to a deity, but to oneself. Without regret, I should have, but I have lived my life as I have ought to have had. I lived my life as you live your life, appending to the eternal understanding and growth.

The mist on a foggy day, the beauty of its transcendence. I recall and I am there, among the people rushing through the streets, resonances of their whispers, their thoughts. Their dialogue distant but like music. All the noises merge, symphonies of living but peaceful… and when I listen long enough, I hear the eternity, the vastness and space, the stillness and the longing. We all belong.

That second when you body jerks to sleep, that’s the moment, that’s the construction.

I can hear the laughter of my children. I can hear the dog, Sammy, barking in the other room. The scratch of the nails along the wall. I can see the tiny spider webbing its home. I am walking down the corridor. It’s my home. The dusty curtains in a need of a wash hang on each side of the dining room window. The cushions on the sofa, pale blue, almost white, stained by memories of my children on Christmas morning. Tiny as they were, adults as when I left them.

My days have gone and I am swimming. I was a great swimmer and now I am sinking with joy and love, pure.

Intrepid to bind my life and then let it unfasten, falling freely as to where it may lay. The quiet as the ocean’s waves gather, another tone, another note, singing, voices singing, so remote, so small. A morning on the beach; the dog chases the children in a distance. I smile. It’s cooler than usual. The time of the year when summer turns to autumn and you can smell the arctic wind. But, sunny days are not forgone yet as I have never been forgotten. Have a place in this vast space, adding, subtracting, amending.

I will never forget to dream, recollect, bring the pieces of my lie to the beyond. Conquer new quests, new joys. How simple life can be. Let my fingers run through the grass. Let my smile greet the day. Let the people scream and shout. Be yourself, be one, be kind, be love… be in a moment and scatter away from the pain and the anger, the hate and the guilt. It won’t matter at the end. Bring with you the happiness and possibilities. Reach out and abet. We are in all of this together, the earth, the sun, the critters, and us, the human race unjust. We have forgotten.

I have forgotten and now I am here, silent but filled, touch.

Don’t cry.

All the days summed, my days. They were my days. There are no days here, just moments, old and new, brief and infinite.

I have lived a long life. I have met many people. I have seen and I have remembered. I have taught and I have learned. I have fallen in love and out. I have been and not. I have cried and laughed. I have danced and mourned. I have…

And like a reel ending, spinning and then stopping, ceasing to exist, ceasing to breathe. For one more gasp. I am free. I am here. A return, as I will also return.

© Jacob Greb — 2017

return to Story Teller

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