It is the world in which we live that slowly dies. We live and we live on beyond all we now see, as beautiful or corrupt as it may be. And yet there are these things I hold dear. Things like mugs and items procured for their looks or comfort or utility, that I don’t want to part with as the world dies. These I hold as if holding on I may prevent the death of the known as I move toward an unknown no matter how wonderful and beautiful it may be beyond this day.
Relics of a world that is for me passing away. For I am just passing through on my way to another world another place beyond time and space. Yet here I am wandering as a stranger in this world, in this time, in this piece of space. I wait.