We chased the dying sun in hopes that we would follow,
but all we found were ashes,
dust and echoes.

And we were forced to rebuild-
to carry on and perpetuate this cycle of
woe, decay and fear.

We would always dream and wonder about the past:
how it must have been before us,
and how the world would be without us.

But what if it was us that had no end,
constantly creating our own realities as singular,
solipsistic sparks?


About optimistthepessimist

Always in transit.
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