The 7th of March 2003 – Breckenridge, Colorado

(found floating on a breeze)

To Gaia,

I breathe in and out. I breathe in harm and suffering. I breathe out peace.

Up on the mountain I am the mountain. Eternal, reaching far back into an unknown past and being pulled forward into an unknown future. Spinning at thousands of miles an hour on a ball. Warmed deeply by the burning sun. Warmed forever by the dying sun. But forever does not last.

There is an eternal blackness in my gaze, and I can see a smiling face flickering in the distance.

I breathe in and out.

Eyes closed, I can see it all. Mountains, rivers and trees. Ants scurry from home to the office, stopping at the grocery store on the way back for dinner to buy apples and onions but forgetting to pick up the milk.

A tap on my shoulder from the man with my coat. He laughs, and I follow. Out of the sun and into the shade. We climb. To the tallest branch we climb, and the ants become smaller and the milk becomes so much more important. SEE! The Milk! If only! That’s the key.

But we climb higher, above the tree and to the clouds. There are no ants. There is no sign of the milk. There only Is.

I breathe in and out.

All there is is Is. To be is being. To know is knowing. To live is living, and living is but slow death.

I breathe in and out. My eyes are open, and a siren blares. Out the window I can see an ambulance zooming down a dirt road.

I wonder who made breakfast. Will I be able to have milk with my cereal this morning?

Palms pressed together in front of my chest. I breathe in and out.

Lovingly,

Kronos

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