I loved this and wanted to share; credit to source is at the bottom link. I did not write this, but it gave me a lovely feeling and I hope you will enjoy it.
'A billion cold rocks, scarred and pitted, Hurtle through space. Given the odds,
Aren't we lucky, so unfathomably lucky, Just to be alive.
A stray beam of light careens from one of these rocks. Hits something. Bounces to something else. Behold - a magnolia in full bloom - hanging like an apparition above the San Francisco Bay - a lotus field from a Buddhist paradise.
How can I say I am not lucky? When a billion years of intergalactic accidents have conspired to bring me this gift.
Indecision. Right? Left? Right? Left? I walk through a door and there is the love of my life.
How lucky, how unfathomably, uncharacteristically lucky, that I just didn't blow it.
Her face reddens and strains. She screams. Another minute surely she shall die. Or I will. Then the baby's head emerged, tiny tired perfection, weary as an old man, radiant as an angel.
How can I say that I'm not lucky? Just to be alive.
A doctor walks in. She need say nothing. The answer is etched in her eyes. Those shadows on your liver are cancer, metastatic cancer.
But how can I say that I'm not lucky?
Just to be alive.
-Rick Kohn, Mr. Lucky, in the Fall 2000 edition of Inquiring Mind.
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