Each With Their Own Story to Tell

Do we not all exist
As figures in a grand portrait
Captured
Each second
In a cosmic still-life
Our lives existing
Within
As well as between
Each vibration
Each motion
Each advancement of the scene?

We are all here
Together
Huddled
On an improbable
And utterly awesome
Sphere of space debris
That is spinning through space
And time
With a rapidity that we struggle to comprehend,
Living
Breathing
Waiting
For our chance
To be.

Each one of us,
At one time or another,
Feel as if we are but side characters –
Unseen,
Unheard,
Unwanted,
Unneeded,
Our mere existence
Just a product of decisions made
Beyond our control
And without our awareness.

We may feel as though
Life is not for us to live,
To be observed,
But not to be participated in.

This is
Of course
An unsettling and ultimately false perspective.

In any given moment
There is,
By nature of the reality in which we exist,
No distance between,
No difference between,
Any one of us,
For we are all of the same beginnings
And will someday find ourselves subject to
The same end.
Fading in an out
Of an ever-changing world of light and matter,
None no more valuable,
Nor more despicable,
Than the last,
All worthy of love,
Of kindness,
Of respect and recognition,
As we are all just collections of matter,
Each unique
And each with their own story to tell.

13 thoughts on “Each With Their Own Story to Tell

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