Last Words

Anger is a cruel, boring slavemaster; action a thrilling, infinite hero.

Why be petty when I can be powerful? Grimace when I can be graceful? Beauty is inside.

Each day is the best of my life and may be my last.

So what?

I’m not guilting myself over a bucket list. No tidying up or giving back while there’s still time.

My bucket overflows and Death won’t ask if my bed was made or demand a count of my charities. Death don’t care.

Yeah, a radical mindset for a onetime priesthood aspirant, who genuflected and prostrated to a vision of death on the cross.

Jesus finally got through to me despite superstitious kundalini: My good mind and soul always has been enough.

A well-lived life means laughing at myself and with others. If eternity has any requirements—which it doesn’t—laughter is prime.

Ha ha ha! Last words.

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