Time is life.
Whether or not we choose to believe in this statement is entirely irrelevant to it’s significance. For the most part, each day of our lives consist of mere repetition of the day before it. We spend countless hours searching, but for what?
After vast periods of the ongoing cycle that is life, we begin lose track of the significance of our existence. Our sense of purpose no longer speaks from within our souls, taking away our determination to strive for bigger and better things. So it seems, although we are alive, we are no longer truly living. We are merely driftwood, caught in a current, forcibly moving downstream.
Only when we cease the search to discover life’s purpose, do we begin to embrace the moments of wonder which lie before us.
We discover that certain moments, whether they be of abundant prominence or the utmost simplicity, are all what makes life worth living. The splendors and purity that life has to offer are not in a faraway land, but lying within us, waiting to come out so that we too may begin living.