Dying. The day worth living for...?

as i trudge up education..
as i walk towards career..

as i see responsibility at the horizon..
as i listen to all that advice..


as i sit by my diary, my canvas, my mind..
i wonder about the place in which i lie confined..

winding my way to or through
family.
friends.
teachers.
colleagues.
''others''

i think about things that go beyond

the general classifications..

as i lie here,

the newness of this silence

stirs up noisy thoughts..

between all that joy,

and much sorrow..

through all that work

and scarce rest..

with them, without them,

surrounded by things which are mine,

and things i want to make mine..

i look out the window

and suddenly i know...

all that i'll ever own..

or possess..

all that i'll ever be able to make mine,

is Now.. this moment.

and it's a lot by itself..

so much so,

at times i feel it's so much,

that i don't know what to do with it..

a moment.

small and diminutive it may seem...

taught me

that i was dying.

a lot of us die,

before we realize

that we're alive..

and capable of living..

that moment...

small and diminutive it seemed on arrival..

defining and sacred on departure..

as it nudged the next moment to ask me:

is dying the day worth living for...?

.