Something to consider
I wonder, I wonder...
There is a simple fact that all men must eventually contend with. We are what we leave behind.
A man has a life. His life must eventually end, so what is left? That is up to him.
What we build, what we say, and what we do will outlive us.
We are, after all is said and done, what we leave behind.
We are the future, each and every one of us. We are hope, prosperity; we are dreams come true.
But this is only the case if we see it that way, for a decision is a double-edged sword.
We are also what we destroy. We are killer, as we are builders. We end ideas as commonly as we create them. This is not a crime. This is no brutality, no murder...it is a building block for something potentially much greater.
Again, we are temporary, we are what we leave behind, and what we destroy dies with us.
Nothing stops us from creating with pieces of what we've broken.
In an abstract sense, we are tethered to and by our own choices. We make them, but once made, we can never undo them. As such, we must make the best decisions we may, else we do not reach our full potential. We make poor decisions. It is a mortal thing to do, and we are all mortal. Do not dwell on a mistake. Use the pieces of what you broke to build something majestic. Turn what you made ugly into something beautiful. This is the only way we can hope to improve this world we live in.
Men tend to weigh too heavily on one or the other. They thrive to break, or they thrive to build... Too few like to build out of what is broken. This restricts us.
As parting note, bear this in mind. You may live to be a hundred years. You may live to be older still, but not by much. You may live only for one more day. I ask this, are you ready to accept that what you've built will outlive you? Are you willing to see that what you have broken will never see tomorrow if you do not? Reflect for a moment, considder... Upon whose...upon what's shoulders do you stand? Are you weighing it down, or are you reaching for the stars? Are you breaking those that support you? I may die tomorrow, but now this thought will last for years, decades, perhaps centuries. I am okay with this. I know what I have broken. I now hand the pieces to those around me. From my experience, I wonder: what will they build? What would you build?
One day, someone, something will stand upon your shoulders. Will you look up to them, or will your gaze fall short, and see only what lies crumbling beneath you?