And somehow we bear it. It may be a trudge, or a dance, or a surprise that never feels quite right. We were there, and now we are here.

What does the passing time reflect? Accomplishments, perhaps – whatever leaves a mark. But what of the singular experience?

It is bewildering, at times, to even be alive. How much more so to see the distant end, to experience the faltering physicality. The end is as mystifying as the beginning. Here, then not. Not here, then thrust into the ordered chaos of existence. The physicality of smells, sights, sounds, sensations – the psychology of others and the nebulous boundary between the singular and universal experience.

Punch into the membrane – we can not and shall not break through. But when it is time, we learn that existence without physicality is merely a survival wish; or, we are absorbed into infinite possibility and released again as singularity; or, we simply cease. Or all of the above, and more, and experience beyond imagination or calculation. Or we are the dwindling transfer of energy until one day there is simply no more energy to exchange.

Still, we exist now in temporality. Thoughts alone will not disturb the fundamental truth: we are. We simply are, here and now, young and old, changing and maintaining, subsisting and thriving, laughing and crying. We are, and we know it.