Recently I've been thinking about age. And how I've been able to see many of my friends change in facial features and what not. A lot of people will say that it's good to see your friends grow up with you, but honestly I find it weird. And hard to see a friend grow up so fast and in turn die just as quickly. I've also thought about when my parents will age and I never liked the thought. Not because of the reason above but the fact that it would wear and tear at their facial features and maybe even their personality. It's rather depressing to think of it, really. And yet we creatures in this humble form of human beings find beauty in the peak of this disaster. And buried beneath all the grime of time and the dirt by which we walk upon; we find the subtle peace of knowing (or hoping) for the better place ahead of them. I have even had he pleasure of sharing my thought on age and the term of "old". "You're never old until you die." a humble phrase I suppose. It would always make my teachers laugh. But the mere fact that we are dying as one reads this could supposedly bestow the thought of old. Our faces' wrinkle and our ears crane to hear. As our eyes lean in close as if attempting to catch the whispers of their conversation. We are everything and anything that is considered Age. From our birth to our grave; we sat in a tomb-like state. Our feeble minds and bodies dying as quickly as they came. The ever-so-gracious God whom deemed us life brings us back home into His long awaited arms. Our soul I suppose doesn't really age. It lives on in either Hell or Heaven. And at that point it will have two options depending on which side you chose. Either regret or the purest form of happiness.
February 28, 2011