life

there is a word that keeps coming up.

life.

i want to ask, what does life mean to you?

is it what you think i do. live mine.
is it what you think you do? or by acknowledging life, you accept the fact that you must make room for it in yours.

is yours presently void of life, is that even possible?

is life the presence of a heartbeat alone?
the absence of shadow and stone?

i wonder.

life.

do i have one. do i know what it means? can i offer you mine and recieve yours? are we meant to reveal the meaning to, for others?

i do not know.

but when you use this word, life. i understand you have a particular meaning. a peculiar connotation i am not getting.

i have to make time for life,

you say.

and i wonder how that is possible? and what does that mean? how does it mean?

is life the presence of thought? or, the absence of it?

is life some intangible elusive, or something palpable and present?

this word strikes me as something familiar, yet foreign. something i do not know, have not experienced. but am eager to explore.

and it is also something that taunts me.

something i live in the recesses of my heart. where i am another wife.

life.

i must remember to make time for it.