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It never lasts long, you never remember:
Coming to new places, the world around you
Not sure of its own existence ?
Being a newcomer
From the region of Possibility.
The houses, roads, trees, all are located
In the places it would be probably best to locate them.
You see the reason.
You feel the purpose.
Then it changes, everything hardens,
The roads turn heavy, no longer able
To make a new turn in the same place.
They are dead now.
The houses hold their position
Not because they are comfortable where they are
But because they've lost their power of moving.
And the same thing when you were a child:
The universe in a hurry
Writing its history.
Inventing rules it will have to follow
Till the end of times, which is far
And near at the same time.
The stones getting used to falling downwards.
The sun learning hours.
And the entropy: shall it increase?
Or maybe it shall not?
by Nikolay Nikiforov