A/N : Yeah, I had a different version, but I decided to go with this one... I'll elaborateIlater, maybe, add some names and situations... FYI, these are LIly's thoughts on love, time, etc... R + R!
Life is so utterly, amazingly, insanely, complex and at the same time, to that degree, it is antangonizingly and mind-blowingly simple.
Life. Wow. How can we restrain that inexplicable journey to such a humble word? How could we bind up time and space and forever in such a petty combination of worldly sounds?
Time. Wow. I have a cousin whom I talked to at our last family reunion, and she told me that time is a human invention. Oh, I'm hungry, better check and make sure it's time to eat. The thing is, if you're hungry, you eat. Nature doesn't care what time it is. Horses don't know time, they only know 'Teacher, I do not understand' and 'I understand now', for between those two times there is no time, only existence. There are no hours or weeks or months. Frequently, I wish humans could be more like that.
If existence is too grand for life, and time isn't really real, what is it? The only possible, logical response [but I'm throwing logic out the window with this anyway, so...], the only theory I could formulate, is that existence is love. Rather, existence it the quest to discover love, from the very moment we are born until the moment that we die.
Some people are lucky enough to know love soon after birth. They slip into this cold, huge world with knowledge they are far too young to possess, knowledge of time and space and life. Then, they are lifted into their mama's arms and look at her eyes, and forget that worldly knowledge, and begin a new journey right here from the start, but this time, their existence isn't life, it's in its true form, love.
Murders, riots, crimes. These are all misguided attempts to find love. When these people were borne, they never saw love. Maybe their mamas were addicts or druggies or maybe they had never seen that beginning of love. That's how these terrible acts spread like wildfire. These people are knowledgeable about life and time and space, and we could learn more from their perspective than we realize. But to these people, existence is life, and it's disposable to them, readily at hand, a resource.
And I know what love is, I know it in my heart. But with that comes responsibility, because you don't ever want to break another's. Time and time again, I battle with that elusive emotion. I'm going to fight forever with these feelings, this love, until the day I die.
Time. There I go with that word again.
But, see, love isn't life or time or space, it's existence, I think. Love... Well, love just... is.
Life is so utterly, amazingly, insanely, complex and at the same time, to that degree, it is antangonizingly and mind-blowingly simple.
Life. Wow. How can we restrain that inexplicable journey to such a humble word? How could we bind up time and space and forever in such a petty combination of worldly sounds?
Time. Wow. I have a cousin whom I talked to at our last family reunion, and she told me that time is a human invention. Oh, I'm hungry, better check and make sure it's time to eat. The thing is, if you're hungry, you eat. Nature doesn't care what time it is. Horses don't know time, they only know 'Teacher, I do not understand' and 'I understand now', for between those two times there is no time, only existence. There are no hours or weeks or months. Frequently, I wish humans could be more like that.
If existence is too grand for life, and time isn't really real, what is it? The only possible, logical response [but I'm throwing logic out the window with this anyway, so...], the only theory I could formulate, is that existence is love. Rather, existence it the quest to discover love, from the very moment we are born until the moment that we die.
Some people are lucky enough to know love soon after birth. They slip into this cold, huge world with knowledge they are far too young to possess, knowledge of time and space and life. Then, they are lifted into their mama's arms and look at her eyes, and forget that worldly knowledge, and begin a new journey right here from the start, but this time, their existence isn't life, it's in its true form, love.
Murders, riots, crimes. These are all misguided attempts to find love. When these people were borne, they never saw love. Maybe their mamas were addicts or druggies or maybe they had never seen that beginning of love. That's how these terrible acts spread like wildfire. These people are knowledgeable about life and time and space, and we could learn more from their perspective than we realize. But to these people, existence is life, and it's disposable to them, readily at hand, a resource.
And I know what love is, I know it in my heart. But with that comes responsibility, because you don't ever want to break another's. Time and time again, I battle with that elusive emotion. I'm going to fight forever with these feelings, this love, until the day I die.
Time. There I go with that word again.
But, see, love isn't life or time or space, it's existence, I think. Love... Well, love just... is.