I marvel. Over the fact. That I exist. In a fantastic world.
Almost beyond human comprehension. In an infinite cosmos. Boundless. So that if
I traveled at the speed of light. Forever. I’d never reach the end. Or the
beginning. Of course, I can’t prove that this is all real. That it’s not my
imagination. Playing tricks on me. I keep asking. Why am I here at this given
moment? I don’t have the answer. All I know. Is that I’m happy to be alive and
conscious. And in love. With life. Able to ponder. A thought or two. --Jim Broede
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