To have been in this time, to have witnessed what we have seen.
What does it mean when we look back and find ourselves wondering what came before us,
to have found that it was all the same.
The sun rises and sets again and again, we watch the seasons pass us by, yet time is moving us forward, always showing us the next thing.
What does it mean when we wander through deep blue skies at night, watching stars move and shimmer, oh so bright? Did we once see what came before them?
The light they give us is from a distant past, what is hiding ahead of us to view, and yet already exists. If time stood still and let us see all at once, would we be so enamoured, beholden with ourselves, to have witnessed the greatness the universe can give. Our short time spans will be forgotten, only those Kings and Queens and rulers of the world will be recalled. Yet they are the victorious over us.
What does it mean to find the place at which we rest, to step across the spot which marks our grave, runs shivers down our backs. Do we not notice that we are already hollow on the inside, that from day one, we are mortal and time strikes against us. Who are we to question faith, whether it exists or not, it doesn't change the fact we won't be here in time to come.
The sun continues on for longer still, yet it's lifespan is chalked up already, it has an estimated end life just like anything else, and the ghosts which walk among us sees the changing landscape, the sun sees everything else around us.
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