A Question Half Answered.

What does it mean to be alive? It’s more than one’s beating heart and able body. It’s more than stability and routine. It’s a question half answered. A thought that dissipates. I can feel what it is, I know what it’s not, yet I cannot quite define it. Its elusiveness escapes us. Never able to catch up. However, in the margins of experience, it envelopes. In the moments of stillness, or wild ecstasy. In the consistency of being, present, I lay the foundation for this to arise. To inquire once more. Am I truly living?

Eve LemeurComment