Tuesday, 26 July 2011

Time. [May 8, 2010]

I know that someday I will be forgotten.
After the turning of the tide, after the passing of time brings me into old age (if I am spared that long) then the memory of me will be forgotten.
Life truly is a breath, slowly exhaled, sifted into the vastness of time.
I watch it amble by, occasionally appearing as if it is dragging its feet, but then other times as if I am only feeling the empty space where its presence has lingered but for a moment.
I will not mourn the moving of time.
I understand that memories, like feelings, sometimes family, and oftentimes friends, fade.
There never has been someone like me, nor will there be anyone else like me after I am gone.
This has been the fate of billions, millions, trillions of souls to set foot on this earth since creation.
We will never know who they all were, just as those who come after us will never know who we are.
This is life.
I do not attempt to explain it, or reason, or justify why.
I am fading, even now, into the background of memories once treasured.
One day I will be only a name, inscripted on a gravestone.
At least, I will be that to them that remain.

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