somewhere out there, they all gather. and wait for us. for ours too will be the journey. only, we know not our destiny.
but even that will not be the end: just as stars are born, and as they burn bright. and then, as they fade away. only to become something else.
consider this. when the abstraction that is time itself has a beginning and an end, what kind of earthly reign do we expect, we who are but insignificant, redundant accidents in that selfsame, bounded entity?
No comments:
Post a Comment