Life is not static.

Death is static.

Life is a dynamic flux of contradictions and conflicts,

The ground beneath our feet

Is in free fall with us—

All things solid are only apparently so.

Life is a kayak.

We are rolling in churning waters

through chutes and cascades,

and over high falls

with no way of knowing what’s coming next,

when all we ever wanted was a placid little

smooth and easy,

predictable routine,

where we could read and sip hot tea

without ever losing our place,

or the car keys.

We wouldn’t go to a movie

about a life like we want ours to be.

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