Sat in the stormy dark morning. Nothing known, no covering of soul, nor flesh, just as I came to this world. Yet different in times weary marks left.
Feeling, all that life has been, could have been. All the dreams and hopes.
All there is now, is now. The rain on the window. I think a lot about you sitting here.
The future used to be mine in its essence to see, I could sense it somehow. No longer so.
There is just, time.
Moving. Standing still. The same sun, the same moon, nothing changes. Over years and lifetime’s, all remains;