It’s where few of us lie, aiming
Beyond the illusion of what we can see,
Far past the barrier
Of what we can’t be.
There our dreams, goals, and wishes,
Not far from our reach.
Across the nothing, a bridge
To what we can’t yet complete.
Across the gap, this void of ignorance,
There is a voice that calls,
“Time is as finite as its observer
And as mortal as reality falls.
Do not be saddened, we all must die,
That’s what makes our time here precious,
An immortals time is nothing,
As an infinite store of gold: worthless.”
It matters not if the illusion is real,
Or the barrier can’t be moved past,
What’s important is we try and fill
Each moment with what then lasts.
Time is as finite as its observer,
And as mortal as reality falls,
Our lives are adolescence to eternity,
Before our names, that voice, does call.
ChainsawPenguin 