Can you imagine

trying to draw lines around your aliveness?

A line under this

A boundary round that

A wall over there

A moat around here

Where will it end?

This effort to isolate some parts and not others

Do you think for one moment you have a say

in how this wonder of being unfolds

on what goes where and how things are?

All the while the hidden heart remains unbounded, wide open

Let us not forget that this very aliveness that we are, has been lent to us from who knows where. It was never, is or ever shall be ours to keep. At death we return that which was never ours in the first place.