The past never dies, it just freezes, and it trails along behind us
In the frozen river of time like the long tail of a blazing comet.
It is the finger of fate that writes upon the wall and then moves on.
It is the history of our past and cannot be erased by piety nor wit.
Everyone has a record in this history, some long and some short.
It is a record of our world line and all of the squiggles thereupon.
Be mindful of what fate may record in your haphazard biography.
Be careful about what you say and do and to whom you do it to.
Make good choices now so that you won't have to wince later.
We are marching in a grand parade through time immemorial,
Where countless millions have gone before and millions go after.
Many try to leave a mark so that they will never be forgotten.
What will the last one do when there are no more to remember?
Perhaps those fortunate who make it to Paradise will be able to
Watch it all again like episodes of a long streaming video series.
After all, we will have plenty of eternity to watch reruns.
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