Life. The most beautiful tragedy ever written. No matter how wonderful something may be it will come to an end. So, if you take each moment and live at only that time how much more do you think you could get out of that short span. If you think, that within the next instant none of it will be there, do you think you could find more in a passing touch? Would you not hesitate to show every emotion? Or hide, like a shadow in the background? When you reach out and realize you're touching life's frail hand will you shrivel up and cower in your fear? Or let death claim you in its fickle embrace? But how fickle can something be that has been with you since the day you are conceived? Life is in constant motion all around you on the outside, but death is born within. It's only fickle about when it chooses to reclaim you from the life you become reluctant to give.
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