isn’t is odd the people you see on the bus, every day, are different, and each one you’ll never see again.
but every single person from that moment will continue on living their lives to all varying intensities, with love, fear, anguish, pain, joy, passion who will each pass countless others on their journey of life and death
and then to think that no one person is more meaningful than the other.
that once frightened me
here i am already so insignificant in the scope of the cosmos
a fraction in a dot
one day i turn to dust and no one will no who i am just as no one knows me now
what about legacy?
do i need to make my mark? am i inadequate if i don’t become established in society?
a professor, artist, teacher, scientist, revolutionary
some people do things so profound the course of humanity is changed.
those heroes in history become dust
and still there will be many more.
but i am happy living for a second.
without a footprint. like most of those who have and will live.
it doesn’t scare me. the meaning is life. and that is enough for me.
life is everything
how lucky i am just to have lived to see clouds and grass and deserts and mountains.
taste and feel the world.
to see a sunset and sunrise. cried and laughed. climbed and fell.
that is all i need.