Ponderings

It’s not clear what separates us from nature, each other,even certain parts of ourself
we never knew existed,until we fall flat on our face. Flatter than the horizon on a hot May afternoon
Then we know,we are not who we think we are,and the world doesn’t exist to serve, or even enable us in some arcane remote way,like how truth follows a butterfly Or how there is no saving a balloon from the end of a pin
Funny how such entitled thoughts Like those featuring us At the very center of the universe Pop up and dominate us Like our school teachers,who taught us fresh air helps us avoid cold germs. Yet I wonder, even with all this Can we ever avoid death?