What's your story? How did your parents meet each other? How was your grandparents' childhood? What were the life journeys of those who existed before you? How many of them faced wars, hunger, diseases? How many decisions could`ve been different? Would you still exist? Maybe not. Maybe our life is the consequence of their existence... is what survived the choices, the conquers, the cuddles, the years... Maybe we`re only their stubbornness to remain... to extend time way beyond the first man to ride a horse, to take a sailboat and explore continents, to give birth, to discover the wheel, the fire, love... way beyond the cave, the first sound, the first star... the first breath of life that extends itself through the infinite that exists in each one of us.
We are memory. A fine interlude of time... short, intense, immense... that insists on being seen, on being unique, on leaving a narrative for the existence of the next travelers. We are message. Silently transmitted in whispers of poetry through the longing of those that are within us... through the passion that we looked at her for the first time... through the fond petting on him at bed... through the insanity of us being made 80% of water... through slight moments of existence between memory and imagination. We are an idea, an intent... a story that is one and so many at the same time...
May the stories be told aloud, narrated at bedtime, embraced in the moments of pain and glory, celebrated in the dusk, revived by tears of joy, remembered through the ages... Because we are all meant to fade away... to melt into the existence... to beat, once again, with the infinity that we all came from. And yet, what a poem we are, complex, needy, beautiful even in the saddest moments... willing to connect, hoping to be remembered, lasting against nature's laws.
What a beautiful echo we are,
What an intense breath of life,
What a privilege...
Janayna Velozo.
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