It gets wearisome, don't it? The day-to-day business of trying to stay cognizant and in fine fettle.
Baby, we are here. We're here and we're cognizant and in fine fettle. Now what, you ask?
We take a breath. We make space for soul-expanding sexual revelry (whether you're a pansexual or a solosexual or anything in-between, get in where you fit in. This tiny blue marble is expansive enough to hold all your hunger.)
We make space for camaraderie and buttery capers. We make space for our sanity and our sense of amity. We make space for strength sharpening sleep and wakefulness. We make space for family and kindred folx who invite every facet of our intricately orphic selves to sit down, remove our kicks, and get as comfortable as coin.
We test the dimensions of ourselves every day to verify the strength of our structure; to work out how we can transcend our own self-imposed borderlines; to see whether we can survive both small and seismic earthquakes.
I'm proud of you, beloved reader.
Do you know how much fortitude and dignity it takes to just get through the day? I celebrate and celebrate you, wondrous reader, because you are the quintessence of self-generated sublimity (especially when you don't feel that way about yourself.)
Image by DIRIYE OSMAN and STEVE BRIGHT.
Song to turn you all the way on: 'Stuck With Me' by Tamia.