The truth is so painfully obvious
But we don’t want to believe the truth
We just live in the moment and moments
But where were the moments before the first?
And where will they go after the last?
It’s a movie we won’t ever see complete
A tree and flower we didn’t see born
A once living carcass we didn’t see let go
What happened before, after, and in between?
It is as an individual we all know
But as a collection of only things
Things that came to be from inanimation
Only few within would painfully know