Behold

A life well lived is witnessed in many ways. While the legacy that will outlast my return to star dust is far more valuable than anything a sentence can produce. My medium of choice to express myself during this existence has always been words. Some days silence swaddles me. It is on these days that I am usually profoundly comforted or deeply troubled. Other days I spread my heart out through language, almost like drawing with syllables. Both deserved to be spilled out of me. Poured. Sifted. Strung together. Shared. The silence and the syllables both sing...

“This is real. I am real. It matters. I matter. This matters. This is life. My life, all of it.” 

And what a beautiful thing it is to behold.