Emotions make us act and feel in strange ways
But the real you remains unchanged
Experiences and challenges shape us, like pots of clay on a spinning table
Still, the real you remains untouched
Illness, pain and grief chip away our vital energy
Even so, the real you remains ever so vibrant
Death arrives, entering without knocking
Yet, the real you remains.
A poem I wrote today, while contemplating impermanence. ❤️
Ask The Mountains 