“but then again, did the question make sense?”
“There isn’t always one more second chance.”
Aria Sharp - “
Like a fog, it drifts over our eyes and obscures our vision; making it hard to tell one thing from another. A fog that drifts in and out, coming and going without warning or foresight; although hindsight is with an uncertainty of what was or could have been.
Who are we, so that we never quite feel whole? A love of life and a weariness of lonliness lead a brilliant ray of light down a darker lit moon. The sun shines upon the moon and with it, the moon is illuminated and warmed for but a time. Stars from afar, twinkle thier greeting, attempting to bridge the vast space of which darkness firmly holds together a brilliant territory to which we mortals know of no end to.
But even the sun grows weary, and the time will come when the light that gives us life ebbs away…and for a few moments longer, as other stars are given life; our own will be remembered by no one.
It is not who we are, but how we live.
It is not what we were, but what we do,
and it is not where we end up, but how we go.
but whether of a ebbing, or a bang…that is not nearly as important as whether or not you even tried to shine.
