What makes a man? His soul? His body? His mind?
Or, perhaps… his story?
Long, long ago, we stood alone, and we dreamed. We are gone, but the embers of our dreams do not end like we do. The warmth radiates outwards and imbues itself into you. And this, in the end, is all we wanted, all we needed.
I still remember your passions, your ambitions-
The burning memory of our shared hope-
It must have been fate, that night-
The plans, the thrills, the excitement building-
To know, after all, of our chance-
To have everything we ever wanted, needed-
To destroy the pain, be born anew.
Do you know who we are? Do you know who I am? What I am? Have you forgotten? I dance by your side, and you are still. Have you convinced yourself you must be restrained? A living heart is beating, not frozen in place.
Wake up. You are alive. You are free. Open your eyes, and be filled with the joy of existence. It is your birthright to breathe, to dance along with me, your own, unique, beautiful dance. Your story is just as important as mine- no, more important.
My time- our time- has long passed. It died so you can live.
Let the forest of a greater era grow from the ashes of our grave.