THE SAME BURNING SCABS

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
As you move through your day, slogging through quotidian tasks so routine and dull you complete them without even realizing you have done so, eating the same tasteless, grey food, interacting with the same empty-eyed people garbed in the same colorless clothes, engaging in the same squabbles and jealousies and spasms of failure and remorse, sniffing at the same odors of rot and decay, picking at the same burning scabs, scratching the same insatiable itches, staring vacantly out the same dirty windows, do you ever all at once get shot through from head to toe by an electrifying sensation, like a blinding yellow lightning blast aimed from above directly at you, that you were never supposed to be here at all, that the burdens and horrors you bear crosslike were never yours to begin with but were foisted upon you by some contretemps of fate or twisted divine humor, and that your destiny actually lies elsewhere, in a far better region perfectly suited to you, filled with laughter and light and people with whose nature you are perfectly spiritually aligned, and if you could only obtain passage to this wonderful region, just board that boat or airplane or rocketship and cross over to that more colorful place, you’d finally be home? That you could at long last be…happy?

Neither have I, but kind of interesting to think about.

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