It comes.
That is what it does.
Pain. Loss. Time.
It does not ask permission.
It does not ask if I am ready.
It does not ask anything.
I do not resist.
There is nothing to resist.
I do not endure.
There is nothing to endure.
It happens.
I am here.
It takes.
I remain.
There is no strength in this.
No weakness, either.
No wisdom, no lesson,
no purpose.
It is only what is.
And I do not move.
There is nothing else to do.
There never was.