A word to wise: there is nothing that exists today that is not worth remembering tomorrow. As summer passes us by, the days getting longer, and the breezes and rains coming and going, we stand sometimes alone at the edge of field somewhere, and try to take in the now of things. We try to capture the last remaining light of a fading summer day, and tuck it into who we are, who we were, and what we may become on some fine summer day yet to come.
I have a feeling that we are not alone. That over the course of time, there have been others like us, bound to a solid ground, that see themselves alone and alive as one in the universe. I think of them fondly, and often. And I wonder where they are now. How many lives stare back into the great unknown passing over a thousand eyes in the dusk, who remember.