Tears In Kiev
Oh that I wish I was there with you, freezing in the snow, your big fat body, snuggled next to mine, a small, skinny, emaciated frame, for comfort, texture, surcease of pain. What is pain or for that matter, the absence? Nothing? Is nothing really bereft? No pain searing yelling screaming and or passing out. Or such joy elation bliss you lose step, and consciousness too? Nothing is the absolute oblivion, the definitive null and void, being definitely without either extreme. Is it thus, we stare into the void piece by piece all along the way, that that is god or death and nothing really to fear at all but yet we’d chose grief or bliss happiness over nothing any day, because we feel. It’s something. A thing over no thing. {{From Unit # 9630}}