Always remember to smell the roses, one day you may blink, and the world will have moved on without you.
"Time is the most valuable thing one can spend." - Theophrastus
Every epic has a beginning, every novel a start.
When we trace lineage of everything, there is an origin point. A single condensed location in time where reflection begins to take shape. When time itself stands still, and creation begins. Our roots are just like those of a towering redwood, spreading deep into the earth, covering a breadth of dirt to gather nutrients that sustain us. Every memory that flashes before our eyes is a thread in the tapestry, every emotion that stirs within us is a strand in the fabric of our story. All engrained in the soil of our being.
Every memory is a branch, each leaf brings sustenance.
Appreciation and gratitude is the steady pulse that brings harmony to our existence. Anger and frustration are the shadows that dance on the edges of our perception. Desperation and melancholy are the echoes of waves that wash over us.
Every memory is carved into the bark of our history, tracing the contours of our experiences. With each passing moment, the roots of our identity grow stronger. Every failed decision, every moment of doubt, every triumph of victory that floods through our veins. Another branch, another leaf, another thread in the tapestry. As those experiences bore through the layers of flesh that hew themselves upon our bones, we are molded like the earth itself.
Sculpted by the hands of time, we are shaped into who we are. Every experience is another stroke of a brush, adding dimension to our understanding. Every friend lost, and every love found, is another lesson learned. Each breath stolen from us, every strike against our bodies, is a reminder of our mortality. Every note journald, and every word echoed through rooms, is strength towards our future.
A mythos as old as we are. A story that is passed down through generations. Only to be lost, when we are forgotten.
A fathers tale, a mother's song, a child's cry. These are the memories that create us. A friends laugh, a stranger's smile. These are the moments that define us. Your eyes carry the weight of your strengths, your burdens the trauma of your past. Every sister, every brother, every friend who has passed through your life. You reflect against the mirror of memories cast from their own stories.
Shadows fall, and candles flicker. The patterns that dance across the wall of our consciousness break apart, our vision fails us, and our bodies turn to dust. Every flower that blooms withers and crumbles. Memory is the only bridge between the past and the future. Every story we tell is another journey we took, and the smiles, tears, and laughter that accompany them, are the value we carry forward.
Apologies are what we leave behind when we break trust. And broken hearts are the price we pay for the pain we experience.