Fleeting

There was a time, long ago, when we lived in a time as slow as the glaciers. But as we grew older, life began to accelerate. Once upon a time we believed everything was forever. We were young and ignorant.  Those of us lucky enough to be born in spring lived in the froth of perpetual blossom. Now, of course, blossom is but one of the brief explosions of colour in the fleeting years. Decades pass in a few breaths. The hills breathe too, they heave and fall. The sky is a blur.

Trees burst through the sea of soil, flashing black against the roils of green. Bright rings spin across the sky, flickering.  Stars explode and their nebulae dissolve. Universes rise and fall. Eternity is strobed.

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