New Neverending

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Abstract

od is thick — Or is it? Can it run fast downhill, away from all that made it?</p><p id="cf17">The door was closed until I opened it, walking away, from, <i>to.</i> Finding a life not given but taken, claimed as mine.</p><p id="1e18">I did not escape — I created, fashioned and shaped the life I didn’t have but was always meant for me.</p><p id="d5c2" type="7">Some are born to their forever lives. Others die rather than live the forever. And, some create a new neverending.</p><blockquote id="0b2b"><p>“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to giv

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e birth to themselves.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera</p></blockquote><p id="ee76">In response to Quote Prompt 13 by <a href="">Samantha Lazar</a>:</p><div id="bda4" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/quote-prompt-13-2f0ac1c18537"> <div> <div> <h2>Quote Prompt №13</h2> <div><h3>June 27, 2020</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*OBBCGU_vFSwqi1Na)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A poem of creating me

I thought what is born exists until death. What is — is, as the earth. What is given can be taken but not replaced.

I thought I was the adult of the child born on an early November day. I was, am, and will be that — for that is me.

Troubles are constant, maybe earned, perhaps resolved but never traded for shiny new.

Our family is blood and blood is thick — Or is it? Can it run fast downhill, away from all that made it?

The door was closed until I opened it, walking away, from, to. Finding a life not given but taken, claimed as mine.

I did not escape — I created, fashioned and shaped the life I didn’t have but was always meant for me.

Some are born to their forever lives. Others die rather than live the forever. And, some create a new neverending.

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

In response to Quote Prompt 13 by Samantha Lazar: