life is, i think, (but what do i know?) about learning to be who we are. who we were born to be. not what we did become... were molded into by environment and society pressure.
sounds simple enough. but is it?
what are we, really? flesh, blood, atoms spinning in perpetual motion, within the awesomely endless universes?
brain or soul? how can we be sure?
death, or life? nothing is certain in this vale of despair and delight.
but we are here, aren't we?
you are as real and vibrant as I. we are equally significant and irrelevant; specks on the earth's surface, tiny... but within us all a centre that commands the attention of all the gods.
if the Goddess should turn her lovely eye upon us and regard us, miniscule though we are in comparison to everything, then we do count for something more than a temporal movement. if we are Her children, then She loves and cherishes us, and tries, like any good parent, to protect, guide, and help us. to where? where does She lead us? to what purpose and end? why would She care for us?
is there something we are missing?
perhaps something obvious we have overlooked?

white bustier