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Over the years I've seen a lot of very old photographs. Couples, soldiers and children in their finest dress, looking a bit awkward into the camera, and all is tinted in this brownish sepia tone. What do these people have in common? They're long gone, and this fading image is nothing but a remaining far away whisper. Their hopes and dreams, all their hard work and suffering, their little joys and secret thoughts, time has washed it all away.

It can be most helpful to consider the transitory nature of all created things. We think of ourselves as more or less stable persons, a solid entity resisting the forces of entropy. But we're just one heartbeat in a complex rhythm. In the symphony of life our note is not meaningless, but it's a tiny note, hanging in the air for just one second between the cradle and the grave.

Many words were spoken to describe God and his character, and many of these qualities have seen a lot of inflation and misuse. I'm fully aware that words often fail when it comes to the deepest questions of our existence. But I can't help myself, I have to call God my home, my source, the singularity where all ends and starts at the same instant, and no matter how deep I fall, his arms will be there to catch me and bring me home...

 

All this beauty turns to dust again.
A time to live, a time to die.
The light fades, this dance is over now.
Every tale comes to an end.

Season change, ages come and go.
The gathered stones are cast away.
Hopes and dreams are just a vapor trail.
Soon forgotten, soon erased.

And as we toil the world is moving on.
All the actors will be replaced.
Memories fade into sepia.
One path forgotten, some other way revealed.

Beyond these shores lies another land.
As we sail a light will glow.
A distant beacon, a call from far away.
The vessel finds its way back home.

Soon this place will be to small,
And I’ll be washed into the sea.
Listen to the wind, you’ll find me there.
Breaking waves chant endless songs.

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