How history will go down...
Death is not but in life's shadow, as life is not but in death's shadow. Two sides of the same coin: in life there is death, in death there is life. A few things in this life are so perfect, yet give way to heartache and heavy eyes, and yet taken for granted. I think anybody who understands animals and environments would understand this philosophy.
Everything that is here influences everything that is touched by that life. Everything touched by that life, indirectly influences everything itself touches. We are all interconnected, woven, bound by biology, metaphysical means, physiological, psychologically. Gaps made can be held by these strings, like thousands of threads strewn across a canyon. Life goes on, these are the things the earth is made of, as the land crumbles and regrows. A flower that grows in the desert has so much to say, though it has no words to speak.
Do we carry all those lives lost, or do they carry us? What can I say? When you can see the holes, the ones in ourselves are felt. Taken for granted, we then can feel the ties to the ones who are lost stronger than we could when they were alive.
My grandma doesn't have much longer to live. Saturday, her kidneys failed. They can't resuscitate her without killing her in the process, she has grown to frail from months in the hospital. Life support is going down tonight, as they release her from this life... She's not been coherent for three months now, I do not doubt her conscious is alive somewhere. She's been fighting to live, hoping for a cure, and modern medicine can only disappoint.
Peace.
Everything that is here influences everything that is touched by that life. Everything touched by that life, indirectly influences everything itself touches. We are all interconnected, woven, bound by biology, metaphysical means, physiological, psychologically. Gaps made can be held by these strings, like thousands of threads strewn across a canyon. Life goes on, these are the things the earth is made of, as the land crumbles and regrows. A flower that grows in the desert has so much to say, though it has no words to speak.
Do we carry all those lives lost, or do they carry us? What can I say? When you can see the holes, the ones in ourselves are felt. Taken for granted, we then can feel the ties to the ones who are lost stronger than we could when they were alive.
My grandma doesn't have much longer to live. Saturday, her kidneys failed. They can't resuscitate her without killing her in the process, she has grown to frail from months in the hospital. Life support is going down tonight, as they release her from this life... She's not been coherent for three months now, I do not doubt her conscious is alive somewhere. She's been fighting to live, hoping for a cure, and modern medicine can only disappoint.
Peace.