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Prize

Every day there is a prize drawing. 
But you must be present to win. 
What do you notice? 
Don’t judge it good or bad.
It is a gift to you. Sit with it.
Study it. Welcome it. 
It is here to teach you
something about yourself.

If you are lucky, it will crack
you open, teach you
something about yourself
that you never knew
because you kept it hidden
in your secret core, the
place even you were too
frightened to speak about.

If you are lucky you will learn 
of your own secret power 
to transcend 
to be 
to love 
to heal. 

If you are lucky 
there was the white butterfly beforehand 
to remind you 
that you are going to die.
Maybe not today 
maybe not tomorrow, 
but soon, 
sooner than the television
would tell you to believe,
sooner than the newspapers 
will know

that before you know it
death will be upon you 
as a friend 
inviting you to come out 
of your straw house, 
the one you built 
with your own hands 
with sticks and mud 
hoping to fortify yourself
against his request, no, demand, that you leave
your supposed shelter 
and step forth unencumbered 
into your true sanctuary. 

For other cultures know that death 
is sometimes more 
than death, just like life 
is sometimes more 
than life, 
but only if you let it, 
only if you stop holding on
so tightly.

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