It's been a month.
It seemed rather long, too much work, too many things. But it's so short, looking back. I still cry about it sometimes, when I least expect it. The tears that spring in my eyes always catches me by surprise; walking home, doing work, reading a book. In my quietest moments when I am lost in my thoughts. I hope to preserve you in my memory. But it still feels like you were never gone. It can't be said for the rest though. The empty room in the office is a reminder of what was once there.
There are so, so much of the unknown. And the known things to us, well we hardly think much about it. Somedays we live life as it is, just a way of passing time. Others we suddenly pause and get startled by our frivolousness and superficiality. The realization strikes, for awhile. And then we return to our normal selves.
The people around us, flitting images. In and out, in and out of our lives. Some faces we forget, some we never fail to. Some names at the tip of our tongue, some oft-said. What is their purpose? What is ours?
And when the world is ending right before our eyes,
When our lives are reaching their demise
What will we think,
Whatever will we think of?
