Title: The Park Bench, J.R. Maxwell;

The enormity of being alive woke me fom a deep sleep. I was finally cnfronted in a manner tht would not rest nor allow any quarter. I am dying. Of course we are all dying;you, me, everyone on the planet begins a the top of a hill ad gradually descends a winding trail meandering. Some of us even run. Sitting here knowing, believing and trying to process a reality like that gathers its own momentum. For most of my life, I hid it from my daily examination, like a passenger riding on a train. Staring out the windows, from the passenger car, it was a blur. I saw my death as though it were scenery. Background that came with the journey. When the journey ended at the station, just before disembarking, I would forget

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