I fall asleep, not in pure nihilism, but trusting the native doubt that comes with a natural death,
trusting the rush of cessation, having a faith that whatever comes after is true, regardless;
I’m ready to pass through death, but not ready to let go of the inclination that nothing comes after, regardless of any words I’ve read in passages.
The faith and the salvation that comes with each morning, it is like laps around a track.
Lapse into a race through each day, not realizing that the most important part is practicing death and resurrection.
You can’t be resurrected if you don’t die, but we try to skip past each morning -each miracle- and rush to death.
The real tragedy is life only matters if we believe, and when we don’t exercise our doubt,
we can’t be fit to die with faith that we will pass into death only to rise.
Sunshine is divine in that it reveals this plan, can we stand to traverse the darkness first?
“There will be no tomorrow
Then you sigh in your sleep
And meaning returns with the day.”
Each night I fall asleep with a certainty of being and nothingness;
Doubt of “there’s got to be more” is overwhelmed with peaceful, eternal rest;
That first breath of dawn, that deep, waking stretch, propels me onward to face the abyss.