The Thing With Pretending You're In A

An Now The Silences Come In A Single Lifetime, In A Single Year... When Species Die, Leaving A Silent Space In The World Song That Can Never Be Filled.

We're All Made Of Stories. When They Finally Put Us Underground, The Stories Are What Will Go On. Not Forever, Perhaps, But For A Time. It's A Kind Of Immortality, I Suppose, Bounded By Limits, It's True, But Then So's Everything.

There Is No Plan, No Future Laid Out For Any Of Us Beyond What We Make For Ourselves.

"... He Had Understood, Better Than Anyone ... The Beauty That Grew Out Of The Simple Knowledge That Everything, No Matter How Small Or Large It Might Be, Was A Perfect Example Of What It Was."

I Don't Think The World Works On Merit.