NOTE: The following are random thoughts, notes, and ideas for future works.
I watched from the shadows, to afraid to approuch her let alone speak with her. I was an ant, and she a goddess. What right did one as lowely as I have to bask in her pressence, to hear the sweet song of her voice.
She smiled, and a lifetime of pain seemed to wash away. All the hate and fear, all the darkness fled from the sight of her radiance. Oh to be worthy to have that smile shine upon my miserable soul, but I am not; nor will I ever be.
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There is a place, far from the lands of men, where the wind sings. Blown down from the mountains, through trees as ancient as the world itself, across crystal clear waters,and fields of wild flowers as vast as the sea. A voice, ancient beyond measure, deep and soothing as the oceans. It sings the song of life, of death, of rebirth. It sings the song of time eternal.
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Death takes us all in the end, his icy fingers closing tight around our hearts. We leave this world as we came in, alone. Oh, we may have friends and loved ones, some may even be holding our hands as we shed our mortal coil, but in the end we leave them behind, and move on, alone.
We spend our lives, gathering things we feel are important. Nice clothes, fancy cars, bits and bobbles and trinkets to remind ourselves of the things we have accomplished. We leave this world believing our lives meant something, that in our passing the world will not be the same. Sadly, the truth of it all is that in the grand scheme of things, our lives matter little.
It is a symptom of humanity, our ego. We convince ourselves that we are more important than we trully are. We are the cause of all the problems on the planet we call home. We destroy the forests, kill the animals, cause global warming, and we are destroying mother Earth. I will not debate the existance or extent of these problems, for in the brief moment of our existence all these things may be true, but in the grand scheme of things it is only we who care.
We are but a flash in the vast life of our world, and when our fire burns out it will continue on as though nothing has changed, for truly nothing has. Do you notice the passing of a germ on your skin, the death of an ant beneath your feet? We are barely a footnote in the history of our world, and our world is but a whisper on the wind of our vast universe.
We live, we die, and the universe will never know.