The Same Sun

All that ever was, all that ever will be in this life, is you. Pain and pleasure come and go along with people, passing like the weather: snow, rain....shine. All one can do is clothe oneself. For when the smoke clears, there you are--the same you. A conglomeration of experiences since you passed from the womb, marred but true.

For real change is subtle. Wrinkles manifest in slow increments. Often we are the last to realize how far we've marched, how ravaging our wars were, how torn we have been.

Oh, mutilations are violent, but are merely physical. Their psychological impact takes time to work, to alter the revolutions of thought, to shift the shock. Our elliptical orbits change in small degrees when, some years later, we can map the processes with a compass. Nevertheless, we still turn around the same sun, the same sun.

All that ever was, all that ever will be in this life, is you. You take yourself with you wherever you go--you are cognizant even in oblivion, sensing in sleep. You cannot run from you. You can only slip into gross psychoses.

So look into your mind's mirror, and find a way to like what you see.