To be more than this, more than just a memory, this perhaps is the single redeeming quality of all humanity. This is the elastic that draws great people together and the fuel, which propels us up and out of the muck.
The very fabric of the universe itself just might be the largest recording mechanism ever devised. Like ripples on the surface of a pond spreading outward from a disturbance or sounds written to tape as magnetic squiggles, our quantum fabric of quarks and muons which only pretends to support our feet, awaits patiently to record all of life’s happenings large and small, all events forever linked in space and time.
Stories of life and death, love and despair, all written eons ago into the annals of our cosmos, and available for viewing for all eternity. It is written that, at the ending of all things, our human goings on will be played back for the universe to witness and for all to judge our actions. Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?
When I go
Let me slip quietly into the night
Don’t linger over me, and
Don’t fear the darkness
I am well and it’s good to be free
