{22nd September 2016: 12:41am}
ALL GOOD THINGS have a beginning, a middle, and an inevitable end. We are finite and mortal, like our ancestors and the bones that kept them steady. But it is the dust from which we are made of that determines our legacy, our witchcraft. For we will either live on forever through the bones of our descendants, or we will burn and form the ashes of chaos, the end of an era, of a world.
The universe could live on for years after we crumble; but could we be nearer to the end than we thought?
Things always have an end, as time cannot be infinite. But you were a catalyst, an instrument of caution, and you made things explode all at once.
A wonder not to be questioned; you, the boy who heard colours, the cause of the effect. You, the boy who both created the universe from drifting thoughts and destroyed it with a selfish mind.
You, the boy who is not a God, but more than human. The boy who tried so hard and fell so far.
~~~
//VOTE//COMMENT//SMILE//
YOU ARE READING
twilight
Short Story[now i see the stars, when i should be dreaming but how can i dream when these thoughts make the universe?]
