Imagine our whole existence
& everything we’ve touched, heard, or seen
as a thin sediment layer
buried beneath a world
that’s forgotten us completely
Imagine ozone-depleted, amber skies
with continents in weird shapes
& coastlines where mountains once swallowed space
imagine the stars in places
no human eyes have seen
& all sandcastles of our civilization
scattered into thin layers of debris
What seem "real" and vivid today
in the twinkling of time
shall fade, fade, fade . . .
It is sobering to realize how small and insignificant we are.
That's certainly true, but it's still worth building sandcastles as if they actually mattered . . .
(musing at his wine glass) Yeah, in one sense our lives are creative works of fiction.
By adopting some myths, we create self-fulfilling narratives. And storylines start to seem "real" when characters start believing
in their own ridiculous fictions.