I Hate When Good Things End
There is a place inside us that craves for eternity. We usually call it "soul", but the name does not really matters. There is something inside us that rebels against duration. There is a silenced cry wanting to come out every time we realise that everything that is beautiful has to end and die.
Our reason tells us with its monotonous voice that everything must end, that the only way for something new to be born is something old to die. But, even if we pretend it does not exist, there is another inner voice screaming that spreading in time until we reach infinity is possible.
These are times where we have learnt too well to silence the latter, but every now and then its cries are going to be heard. The inside child who is a master of time never dies completely.
Our reason tells us with its monotonous voice that everything must end, that the only way for something new to be born is something old to die. But, even if we pretend it does not exist, there is another inner voice screaming that spreading in time until we reach infinity is possible.
These are times where we have learnt too well to silence the latter, but every now and then its cries are going to be heard. The inside child who is a master of time never dies completely.
