Shadows and Dust

All the world is a stage.

How much is my life worth? How long does this ephemeral existence last?

My eyes can hardly capture the images as I fall toward the stage but the weight of my descent is massive and the presence of those around me is immense. The air is harsh and my lungs choke on the cold. All around me there's a pressure beyond normality. Yet, what is normal? Is this life normal? Normality is not determined by relativity. Just as right and wrong refuse to bend to social convention; normality is hard to come by. Here in the heavens, we all steal away from the stage but none of us can escape it. All of us must fall. All of us must brave the night air and dare to dance with fate.

Tell me please, when will it end; this war we are fighting?

I can already see the brilliant dance of light below me. They hit the stage like lightning; flashing out with such power. Each one of them takes fate's hand and pulls their bow across the violin's strings. Each echoes out with a solemn and lasting note. Yet, however brilliantly those stars do shrine, each melts against the ground. Why must we fall? I fear my own battles against gravity will eventually be in vain. Doubtful and full of remorse I am left to drift. How long before I too must hit the stage and feel myself flash out into nothing? For though we try to paint the world in white, the timeless sun always attains victory over the day.

How should time be measured?

There must be something wrong with my mind. Every time I think about the past, I can scarcely recall most of it. Only very few events manage to honor themselves highly enough to master the privilege of memory. Almost all seem to fade away. Yet, there are occasions when time seems to drag on. Time refuses to hurry along and this bleeding heart must feel all the pain it can. So many movies touch my mind and insight my imagination but, however great the movie is, it still ends in two hours. Now that she is gone, my two hour nightmare is over but my pain doesn't end with the movie. Now, I must LIVE with it.

I wonder greatly about the idea of freedom. Mankind has such a violent existence plummeting to a future of nothing. We flash so climatically and feel so intensely but, in the end, we are silenced. I wonder where the greater blessing lies. Should we dread the ground with an undying fear or embrace it as the bringer of freedom? What is the greater torture; living half dead or dying half alive?

In truth, we are all snowflakes; so divinely made. Yet, all must drift to the worldly stage, strike it like lightning and melt onto the ground.