The Manhattan Project.

This whole time I thought I had everything figured out. Between being mad to leave and spiteful of any kind of past. Any kind. Today, summer, four years ago. When. I. Was. Four. . .Whatever. It may be. But what the real answer was this whole time to inspire that drive, to inspire that spark; FOR TOMORROW. No FOR NOW. was. WAS: Dismissal. Well-wishing. Introspective and positive reflection. This is perfect. This is exactly the way it's supposed to be, and I wish you all well. Every single person that has ever walked in. And out. Of my life; I wish you well. I wish you happiness and beauty and forgiveness. And I am so glad I am standing here at this point. This point. This beautiful, all-encompassing. All that there is. Here. I am here. This fictitious future we all live in. Mind and soul. Is not real. Nor the past we dwell in. We are all that is. This is all that is. What moment are you having? Who are you? What are you carrying? And how can you let it go. How. Can you live? All that lays on your shoulders. I dismiss you. You shaped me. But I carry no burdens. All that is. Is. All that is not. Live elsewhere. But that does not exist here. All that you have here is what you see. Live here. Welcome home. We all die?