My conversation with the night

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I walked with you tonight and asked again why is it I have to learn lessons if I can’t take them with me when I die? And you answered…”the lessons you’ve learned were never meant for you…they were meant for me”.

“I learn through form”, you said, “with each specific form designed for a specific lesson. You have taught me and continue to teach me well. For this I shall be eternally grateful.”

For a moment I paused in the dark near an old sycamore and let in the words. Am I not more than your teacher? I said.

“You are”, he said.

Who am I then?

“Me”, he said.

I don’t feel as though I am you. It feels separate. Do you mind?

 

“Not at all, he said. When the lesson comes to an end we will continue to the next. There are infinite lessons for you and I, but we have all eternity to study them.”

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