“My body is a temple. And a graveyard.
Equal parts light and dark.
It makes me real. Just like you.”
For the longest time, I thought my body was more of a graveyard than a temple. But I’ve since come to realize that most temples don’t exist without some kind of graveyard nearby. Maybe it’s because people want a familiar place to come back to, where they felt closest to whatever god they believed in, their loved ones would be close, too. Or maybe, it’s merely a convenience, knowing they are nearby.
So, perhaps my body is the temple and the graveyard — all in one. Because life is never that clean. Life is never without some scars. Otherwise, could we even call it living?
But my hallowed grounds are filled with graveyards — scars — memories — all those things that have defined me, good and bad, as I’ve…
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