Life is impermanent. Wind blown chaos of feelings and experiences, a maelstrom of sights and sounds, followed by bleak stillness, forever silent, nothingness.
Birth gives us one chance to explore the universe. Death gives us perspective. It holds a mirror up to our lives in judgement. What matters; what does not? Who matters; who does not?
The currency of time is finite and what little we possess relentlessly slips through our unappreciative figures. Only when it is all but gone do we become desperate and learn to value it. Only in looking back when there is no more to look forward to, do we realize the errors of our ways and the foolishness of our decisions. Even as we run out of time, we gain regrets in equal measure.
Bodies aching and failing, hearing dimming and eyes going dark, no one yearns for more material things, wishes a life spent more on ultimately empty, selfish pursuits. Withered fingers tremble with fear at the final unknown and find solace and courage only in loving embrace returned.
A lifetime hunting treasures. Status gained, a delusion. Gold made cannot smile back. Only true love is truly precious. In the final tally, only how much we have loved defines our worth. Only the love we’ve given gives others reason to be by our side when we breathe our final breath. Only real love ensures that we will never be alone. Not even when we’re gone.
A life of real, honest loving is the only worthwhile way to live.