Are we a moment, or a lifetime?

Are we a moment,
flickering like the flame of a candle,
burning bright for an instant,
before it sputters and fades,
leaving only smoke and whispers
in the air,
ghosts of what was once alive?

Or are we a lifetime,
woven threads of laughter, tears,
and the quiet spaces in between,
each day a bead strung on the thread
of existence,
a tapestry rich with color,
complex as the heart itself?

In a world that rushes,
where seconds slip through fingers
like sand at the shore,
we chase the high of now,
the rush of adrenaline,
the quick hit of connection,
but what about the roots?

What about the stories that linger,
like the echo of a child's laughter,
the warmth of a hand held,
the soft murmur of memories
that fill the spaces of our hearts?
Are we only the peak of the wave,
or the depth of the ocean,
the stillness after the storm?

I want to be both,
the flicker and the flame,
the heartbeat in the silence,
the moment that stretches,
expands, breathes life into the mundane,
turning seconds into lifetimes,
where every glance is a promise,
every word a bond,
and love becomes the gravity
that pulls us into orbit,
a dance of souls,
infinitely intertwined.

So, are we a moment?
Or are we a lifetime?
Maybe we're both,
woven together,
a beautiful chaos of now and forever,
each heartbeat a testament
that we existed,
that we loved,
that we were here.