You might die today,
the possibilities are endless.
A car crashing,
bullets biting skin,
tornadoes crashing violent wind,
the odds are there in the roll of the dice,
& no desire for life can bring you back
from the dust cloud we will embrace.

We must live in these minutes,
the possibilities are endless,
a paint brush in hand,
eyes soaking up the art of sunrises,
pen in hand praying,
breathing conversation with friends.

Moving in the moment,
a perfected existence in each gathering of air.
The art in the step,
toes touching ground,
body following each gesture,
a thread connecting each limb in this
dance of body, song of the flesh,
stepping inside borrowed skin in a
beautiful dream for lovers of the geometry of the cell.
The joy of birth, the glorious slide show of life,
is here for the taking,
here for the man or woman willing to
see with the eyes of a newborn,
eyes finding the perfection of red apple,
perfection of the flawed shape of sagging skin,
tripping on the process of color gathering itself in
a multitude of unbelievable hues,
pulling the mind into the rhythm of atoms saluting
each other in this heaven & hell of illusion,
where even tragedy is honored on death beds as
we sing the song of our lives in our last testimony.