And for a brief moment, in a small hole the size of the thumbtack,
in one's shining armor,
one becomes afraid of the future.
What would happen to these photos hanging on their frames?
Burnt, thrown, forsaken? Or digitalized, and uploaded?
And CDs. Would they still exist? Or be defunct?
For surely, these wood, metal and glass that surround me would
fade, or rot, or simply melt away,
into oblivion.
Yet, it is these physical surroundings
that our memories are based on.
If there is no house, would we have a home?
If there is no school, would we have education?
If there is no camp, would there be camaraderie?
And yet the memories linger on
in the mental constraints of our mind
and it faces a different enemy in there
that of time.
And time says. Why build up your wealth just to soak in
metal, glass and wood,
that would melt, shatter and rot?
Why not make each day more meaningful than the day before,
not cavorting around in denial or self satisfaction,
but making the most of every second, minute and hour
of every single day, month and year.
For as time gently gnaws at our memories,
so our time becomes lesser.
And then what would ye say
when ye have looked back at time yonder?
