An imaginative trip.

Sometimes. I get the feeling. That I’m just waiting to die. That maybe it would be best. To get it over with. No. No. I’m not seriously considering suicide. Instead, I’m learning to face the inevitable. Used to be. I calculated. Maybe having 20, 30 or 40 years left.  Now it’s more like. I could be gone next week or next month or next year. A little too close for comfort. Puts me ill at ease. Therefore, I try to not think about it. And to get more involved. With living. To keep myself interested. In the actual pursuit of life.  Or to fantasize. About living as a non-physical soulful spirit.  That would be fantastic, of course. Could be that I’m already a spirit. Always have been. And I’m merely imagining life as a physical being. Turns out. That maybe that’s all life is.  An imaginative trip. While embedded in the spiritual realm. --Jim Broede