My definition of forever.

I wonder. If I have a purpose. What am I suppose to be doing? With my life. Is it to think?  To write? To live in solitude?  To go for walks? To read books? To live in monastic ways? To enjoy food? To devour the New York  Times. To while away the rest of my life? In contemplation. Should I pretend to be Adam? The first and only man? Finding himself alone.  In the Garden of Eden? Is this where I am now?  Am I to begin my introduction to life? At the beginning?  Have I already made a full circle? So that I am at the place where it all started? Do I want to begin circling again? Feeling a little bit anxious. A little bit scared, too. But also at peace. Is this what I want forever? Is this true life? Is this my time? To find purpose? To understand the significance of it all. And why? Must there be significance? Other than to enjoy the ride. Don’t know yet. Whether I should be posting question marks. Or just making statements. For immediate and future reference. Doesn’t matter.  If I’m truly living outside of time. There’s no hurry. To do anything. Perhaps I have died. And don’t yet fully know it. Because there is no time. No past, present and future.  My definition of forever. --Jim Broede