There’s so much time in life, to see, think, discover, love, hate. So little time. And so elusive. It will never let you know all the while it just trickles by, drop by drop, across the span of Now and into the darkness of Past, like droplets of water on your visor when you’re riding through wind on the highway on a rainy evening. You dream now of Then and you don’t want to admit it but in the end the Then never comes around to be Now. Dreams pile on over time and are forgotten at death. A whole unlived life is lost in the form of unrealized dreams. But we keep walking, like blind machines, never pausing to glimpse what we walk for, where we are headed. The evening star rises each day unnoticed as you pore over endless work. It no longer makes sense to believe that the beauty of life is all of the reason behind living; that it’s the evening star that is the reason you want to work — to live tomorrow and see some of everything and imagine the rest. The whole complex universe, whose purpose of existence was to let us see it, flows by as an unnecessary aggregation of structures and relationships as we dodge our way into our personal castles of thought and shut ourselves in. There is no rain there, no stars, no evening skies. Life ceases to be meaningful, but is nevertheless lived.
Sometimes we all need to get back to being the child we actually are.