A Dutch Bright Face of the Future Photograph

In the past we dwell. Memories create the present on which wee rest, yet nothing remains the same. Such a state of constant change. Evolution, design is it all the same. A process of the divine. How the soldiers and in line, the sacrifice for belief. The pureness of your sanity. This life is but once in one form, like a swirls of a fingerprint of a galaxy. Unique, so why do so many feel safe when they conform? How long can you withstand the onslaught of being in disharmony. To stand tall with discords. To take the blaze of radiation high in the cosmos. Who is it that decides to rise? Are they all the same despite their ties? The opposition and status quo, who gave birth to this language in which we flow. English, what has it become? Or is it American, did it already seize to be what it was before? The toughest that change your conscious spirit, it is a kind of intoxication. How strong are you really with in it? All must die, but is it not worth trying to defy? Or is it? Is it better to stay safe and conform, how many rebels lost in the past why such a cruel need to control this human form? What are they afraid off? Afraid of making mistakes? Why are there hearts so shut in pride? Why do you need so much take before you give? Surly a heart should flow freely. But as we plan for that future ahead, how much can we afford to squander before we must lay our head to bed? They read these notes, was it instruction you needed? How can you deny what you see? All these signs, but they seem to have lost their sensitivity to really see. Was it really safer, perhaps for the body, but what about the soul. Maybe nothing happens after it all, but then why learn anything at all? For the future is always coming, till there is no more to come. But of the enviable we can never be sure. Kindness has no cost, yet what about those that abuse it? Those that seek to monopolize your generosity, such is the justice lost. And then you can't say no. Is it fair, who's to decide? All the more to be aware for the miracle worker, how do ye fare? Who do they want to be, what when they get there? Will you carry them? Oh teacher, it is fulfilling to see your pupil rise, oh be aware. We pass on the past, to build for that future. A spirit that unravels with time through language and logic, feeling and all this. Opportunity cost, is it so cut and dry, could you do much more if you really tired. In an era of automation and animation have all lost the plot? Could we put it together much better than anyone thought? Would that not be cause to strive, opposition or status quo, could we all not just rise? But who would be still at the top, the unspoken, but all seen, the future you have already written? Or have you? For is it far more simple and complex than I thought? Could you have the power? Some must have the power. Could the future be far greater than anyone ever thought. Well, thus it always has been. The pessimism didn't really ever win, in the story of humankind, if looking back is anything to judge by it. Who would have ever thought you would see a man flying?