Life As Better

Life As Better

Measuring the time of a better life

depends on who you ask.

Life as better cannot be defined

in a three dimensional photograph.

Life as better hasn’t happened yet.

If I wanted to remain in the past

I would have ended myself then

and left a nostalgic corpse.

Instead, I go onward

along with the erosion of mountains

and aging of the moon.

An old oak that outlives generations of humans

does so by periodically sprouting new life.

A life of perpetuating memories is a life stopped.

Blasting back to the past makes me uncomfortable. Nostalgia is rare for me. When I observe others trying to recreate the atmosphere of their childhood, or keep repeating a personal era that appeared special, or hold onto tastes that they insist should still be relevant, I find this existence to be anachronistic. A burden, and insecure.

I want to keep pushing onward no matter the damage done to me. I haven’t had any glory days so far, at least I hope not. I’m pretty unimpressive if the past is the best I can do. Priorities change, but the goal of arrival has not.

Humanity seems split between those gripping fast to an unreliable past, and those trying to brave the unknown future. I must be a young soul, always looking forward to what is new. My past hasn’t happened yet. I wear life on my face and process age in my head, but I brave the unknown future.

 

 

 

Author: valeriemarieleslie

Poet. Thoughts. Musician.

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