Two Plates Twirling

One day, out of the blue, he saw himself objectively,
as if he were someone else—
            the fears, the constraints,
            the incessant little needs, ‘the whole catastrophe.’
He saw the good parts too, but it was all
            running on its own somehow,
            controlled by forces unknown.

“Is this second-hand life all there is?” he wondered.
            So he worked, he struggled and,
            with help, over time,
            changes occurred inside.

He discovered the feeling of living in his body,
            its silent strength.

He had thoughts that left him speechless,
            just seeing.

He found that even small, mundane perceptions
            (but his own)
            could light up his day,
            like signposts.

He asked to be able to feel what he was part of,
            and the Universe opened up,
            radiating out from where he stood,
            extending forever. . .

His ordinary self didn’t disappear, of course,
            but he understood first-hand that
            two independent parts can live
            inside him at the same time.

Like two plates twirling—
            one automatic,
            one born of his wish to be present
            for his own life.

For this gift, this second chance at living,
            he felt most grateful.

And still does.

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