When, at last, I ceased to be myself, I came to be.

Worry notif you are in darknessand the void sucks you in further.This is not the place we go to die.It’s where we are bornand our stories begin.

Maybe when we face a tragedy, someone, somewhere is preventing a bigger tragedy from happening.

Mist to mist, drops to drops. For water thou art, and unto water shalt thou return.

Why are we afraid of the silence that ensues after our death? Wasn’t it the same silence we endured before birth? Isn’t it the same silence we revel in when we are completely immersed in the present moment? Let us not be afraid.

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

All this waiting.Waiting for the rain to stop. Waiting in traffic. Waiting for the bill. Waiting at the airport for an old friend.Waiting to depart. Then, there’s the big waiting: waiting to grow up. Waiting for love. Waiting to show youryour parents that when you have kids you’ll be different. Waiting to retire. Waiting for death. Why do we think waitingis the antithesis of lifewhen it is almostall of it?

With you, I am. Without you, I am not.

You need to keep hurting until you realise you never needed to hurt in the first place.