It is a hope that we can stay relevant long enough to last the entirety
of our lives.
To know that we moved ourselves enough to move another whom might in
turn move yet another.
It is a hope that we can become more than the passing of time itself,
more than a moment in time that never shined as bright as it could.
It is a hope that somewhere within this labyrinth we will leave some
proof of our existence, some undeniable proof that we achieved greatness on our
own terms, and not just the terms of another.
We build ourselves up to stand against anything that would try to tear
us down.
We wage war for the greatest victories in the name of love.
We do great things in silence to avoid failing in the eyes of our
judges, to avoid succeeding at what we never meant to succeed in.
What we create in the empire of our minds is ultimately selfish in its
very nature.
What we decide is relevant is only what affects ourselves to the core.
What we create is only a desire of the ego based on a fear of its
potential fall.
We can only hope that what we have
accomplished might have moved another to create something for us.
We can only hope that for a moment we were
truly relevant to someone else’s heart, even if we became irrelevant to our
own.

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