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One Price

The Whites of Summer Slowly Fade to Gol

(contemplate on this)
by Roberta R. Deen
There is only one price: You pay for this experience with your life. You can paint on a canvas one inch square. You can paint on a canvas one mile square — or any size or shape in between. The price is the same:
One life, due and payable; one payment, in full, at the end.
And, you die knowing the scope of your choice: Timid or expansive, cramped or capacious. Listen to me! One price. ….. One price buys all the rides, or none. The price is one life; Spectator or player, in or out of the arena. One life. Time is the only unknown, and time matters not. The price of admission — for one minute or for one eternity — remains one life. Hoarding adds not one second. Giving subtracts not one breath. Living itself is the defining action, the shaping force; brave, fierce living, in the body, heart open, arms open, eyes open. The act of being shapes and sizes the canvas. Carpe diem? Not nearly enough. Seize life! Wring from it the payment’s worth. Spread out. Unfold. Stretch wide. Paint in broad strokes with bright colors. Man or mouse, a line or a six-lane freeway, gray or a rainbow, a point or a universe. Dance on a pinhead or across the stars. The price remains the same: One life.

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