There is nothing in the past. Even my memories are new. I make them all anew. They are events seen through these old eyes, thought through these old neurones. Each memory is refined and twisted. We remember the bits we want and some of the bits that we don’t want but most is tossed into the sea of forever. We have no history but the one we build for ourselves.
Seconds. How many left? A few? A few hundred? A few million? It’s not he seconds that count; it’s what you fill them with.
I love old things: rocks; buildings; trees. I love old things because they speak to me of forever. I can sense the magic in them; the hands that have touched them, the imagination that created them and the minds that wondered at them.
Our minds are so puny. We are so arrogant. We think our lives important.
It’s strange how we conveniently forget. We build huge cities and think they will stand forever. We excavate old cities and wonder at their splendour without realising that all our cities will burn, be toppled and forgotten. New cultures may wonder over them and marvel at our cunning – the things we have done with our seconds. They may wonder at our stupidity and how we could possibly have let it all slip between the cracks we created through our selfish greed and vanity.
Archaeologists will carefully brush the dirt from the remains of our lives and piece our dreams together.
This is how we filled our seconds.
We are not forever. We are only a brief second in forever, a blink, a swearword, a gasp and ….. gone. We may only ever see a few of the countless zillions of stars blink out. In time they all will run down like drained batteries and the lights will slowly fade into darkness. There will be no one around to pull the cord or flick the switch or ponder the eternal stillness.
Ha. Ha. Ha. I laugh at your vanity of forever. What a fool it makes of you. Genuflection to your gods – it takes seconds. Seconds that could have been full of life.
Sex and death. That’s all there is. A bit too simplistic? It’s the things you do with your seconds that makes the difference. Do you live your life with merit? Is each second of choice well decided? Is there purpose in your existence or do you drool and stagger round like cattle? ‘Pretty cool here. Get pissed, get stoned, fuck and dress to impress.’