A Mausoleum

​

There was some point in my past where I went to the Natural Arts Museum, somewhere in Los Angeles. It was an awe inducing place, if my memory suffices. Looking at all thats left of a past more distant than the beginning of human history is a humbling thing. There was a strange beauty, I thought, to all that matter which had previously carried life being reconstructed in honor of its original occupier. It was an odd temple to nature's capacity for change and a simultaneous acceptance and rejection of life's impermanence: a reminder that life is always dying but never permanently. Those bones contained in them more meaning than I could ever learn: haunted by an undeterminable past.