All we have are these brief moments in time. In the long scheme utterly meaningless, but to us experiencing these things... Well they are everything.
Are these moments truly lost in time?
Is there an afterlife?
Can you share your experience there?
Or is it only ever just for yourself that these small moments exist.
I don't know, but when insomnia has me up at the crack of dawn I do wonder.
Who will ever know what we do alone, but ourselves?
Is there worth to what we do? These messages in a bottle hopelessly tossed at one another in hopes of a true human connection. The possibility of sharing these thoughts and moments, but language is an inferior means of description. How can even the most learned scholar express some feelings and thoughts?
We know it is hopeless, but still we scream out into the night. Help me please. This is all wrong. Something is wrong. The world shouldn't be like this. There has been a mistake.
But who hears us? Rarely do we even hear each other over the sound of our own crying.
No ultimately we are asking God or ourselves for help and understanding. And if either is capable of providing an answer then why do they remain quiet?
Why do we do these things?
Post these meaningless messages to each other.
For what purpose?