I find that everything in life seems to be set in some sort of cycle. Nothing concrete of course, but things tend to come back to the point at which they started. Life gives way to death which gives way to more life. Days fade into more days, same with nights. Nature can get blown to bits and somehow reconstitute itself from the ashes of a burning world.

I wish I could regenerate from my own ashes. That would make a great circus act. “Man gets burnt alive and comes back from the dead!” Maybe more pain than it’s worth but I’ll burn that bridge when I cross it.

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Or maybe I’d burn myself first…

Fire is weird. Like, put a match under a glass cup and it will go out randomly. But if you lift the cup in that moment, the fire restarts without a care in the world. Maybe it’s good that everything begins and ends. Otherwise I would have to live with the failures I’ve made for the rest of my life with no chance at redemption.

I would still remember them, but they wouldn’t matter anymore. They would just be memories scattered in the wind, waiting to be rediscovered. Or to be buried once again, even deeper this time.