It’s easy to forget that everything that begins has an ending.
Life’s amazing potential of making everything bloom is contrasted by it’s amazing potential to destroy.
It is crazy to think that everything we love will have a crappy end. It will all slowly fade into the mere shadow of what it once was until it won’t exist anymore. It will suffer from losing it’s beauty, it’s youth, and it’s brilliance. It will end rotting underground in a stinky mass of decaying fluids that will feed the bugs.
It’s this macab end what propels life.
Everything will rise and fall on itself because the monster that devours time also makes time it’s body. We hang tight to our ego because the vastness is scary and intangible, and it’s easier being little rather than being nothing in an ocean we can’t understand.