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,
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.