What are we all.. except for being someone’s point of view?
We gather our thoughts, take our steps, speak our words and when all is done we look around. Seeking someone whose point of view we were without really knowing we were. When I am 90 and you somewhere around 86 and then we pass on under the lovely trees to a different world, all that will remain is a pale white skull..completely unmasked. That is the end of this glowing skins of ours that we cherish like nothing else. We all probably know that yet we fill ourselves up, yet we wear masks of different hues and colours on us. All this on a body that isn’t quite what it seems to be, for thoughts that are not really ours but someone else’s, for words that aren’t ours but someone else’s, for work that wasn’t really ours but neither no one else’s.
Right, wrong or obscure.. doesn’t matter..it is just your point of view.