Play of DNA

Someone died today.

He had a family and friends. He had a life. He was 33.




I had my brow furrowed in concentration, the tiny tubes proving to be too much for my clumsy fingers. I was concentrating on what needed done next but the thought of such a young death kept intruding into my thoughts. The pain his family and loved ones must be going through. I felt a swell of guilt. Now that is something to mourn. If this is the pain I feel then how they are feeling? I can only imagine. As my thoughts wandered, the sun shone bright through the window onto the selection of tubes in front of me. DNA. The story of life. All we are is DNA. Biologically this is what it comes down to. So where do the feelings and the thoughts and the love come from? The things that make us who we are. Our soul. Are they captured between the gaps of the nucleic acids? Something unseen to the eye but encapsulated until the opportunity for them to burst forth occurs. Who knows.