Monday, September 19

Some Things After Me

I believe that we always read or discover things in life when we’re supposed to. There was no mistake; this was all planned. The blogging department has been slow this year. I’ll try to catch up so I can meet this year’s quota.

I imagine that when I die, the sun will explode into 16,778,216 colors touching all parts of the universe, all hearts in the universe
I imagine the cotton candy clouds falling into hands like first autumn leaves
I imaging willows not even weeping because the rain will bow as an ovation of my life
I imagine weighing 21 grams less from my soul's ascension, creating more space on this earth for the redeemers
I imagine my last breath filling that of a newborn as a constellation of stars light up some mother’s eyes, creating a new type of love
I imagine that when I die, the war within everyone also passes so that we can begin to love one another
I imagine you receiving a revelation of the positive angle for your bad predicament
I imagine any remnant of doubt within yourself alongside underlying addiction or illnesses is removed to free up room for inspiration
I imagine guns being replaced with compassion that only shoot out compliments
I imagine exchanges of ethereal feelings much like falling in love, everything we needed
I imagine everyone receiving good news, the ones they’ve been waiting for and the unforeseen
I imagine beautiful, reviving epiphanies
I imagine the abundant flowers, not only daisies, that I push up will reach the heavens, sharing my mother’s roses, lilies, and orchids
I imagine by lessening my carbon footprint, mother nature will breathe easy to house the children playing on Earth
I imagine technology no longer running our lives so that we’re able to practice patience again
I imagine materialism ends and everyone realizes that we were already wealthy
I imagine someone having read that “this username already exist” will think of the kind of person I was or could have been
I imagine that when I die my photos are fossilized, establishing my place here as a “still” in the works
I imagine my last hour will entail the 15 minutes of fame I’ve been waiting for
I imagine my written contribution to this world arouses someone to perfect his or her craft as I’ve failed to do
I imagine my thoughts will be itemized so that extreme couponers can shop ideas
I imagine someone finding my unpublished works and have a publishing company print a posthumous book, ultimately having the proceeds going to the discovery of the cure for cancer
Maybe I'm just imagining things, but I'll never know