The sidewalk is littered with traces of souls, blown by the wind from another place, in a hope that they might be remembered.
And forever is a myth, we only have now, but the best of humanity walk in the light of hope – giving up their lives and their loves for what may be, rather than what is.
Love can only sustain the tragedy of our souls for so long, before we too become littered on the sidewalk, hoping to be remembered.
We mere mortals were never meant to be celebrated in the way we celebrate ourselves – perhaps that’s why we end up with the leaves and the rubbish, caught in drains and grates with no where to go.
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