Dear future poet,
My name is Paul and I am from the past.
I hope this finds you well.
I hope this finds you.
When I think of people in the past, I sometimes think of them as stupid or barbaric.
I don't think that's fair because often they didn't know any better.
They were just trying to survive.
You probably think we were all stupid and barbaric.
You are not wrong.
We do know better.
We are just trying to survive, the way we want to.
We are cruel to each other.
We are cruel to other animals.
We are cruel to the earth itself.
I hope you are better then us.
I hope you are better.
I wonder if you think you know the meaning of life.
We do not.
We kill each other over it.
A lot and often.
Children die every day.
A lot, and often.
If there is one thing I hope for your time, it's that you never have to say the sentence "children die every day."
I am not asking for your approval.
For your forgiveness or understanding.
We do not deserve it.
We are stupid and barbaric.
About the only thing we know is that the meaning of life isn't to kill each other,
Almost everyone agrees.
Our science is moving quickly to us,
even though to you it must seem so simple.
We keep searching for answers.
keep finding out "how"
keep finding more "why"
Not very many people know what to think.
The ones that do seem like they might be lying.
I don't blame people who have trouble trying.
So there is only one thing I know anymore.
only one thing I know.
only one thing.
There is this girl I love.
Her name is sarah.
She is kind and beautiful, and I only want kind and beautiful things for her.
I hope people still fall in love.
I hope people still love.
If they don't, then I cannot make you understand.
It's almost like the moment you eat something when you are very very hungry.
(If people still get very very hungry.)
That finite fleeting feeling where every part of your body knows it is getting what it so desperately needs.
Imagine that moment lasting much longer.
And not being brought by food, but by words.
Or by kisses.
Or by gifts.
Or most often by watching the person you love while they sleep.
Imagine you are from a time where life is fragile, death certain, and the in between far too short.
We do not have much that matters in our time, other then love.
It is our rarest and most precious thing.
I have this with Sarah.
It makes me a king in my time.
People pretend like it isn't what they are looking for.
But it is.
Often in ways that will never lead them to it.
I hope you are looking for it too.
I hope you find it.
I hope you are so much better then us that you call us stupid and barbaric.
I hope that almost everything has changed.
But not love.
I hope that hasn't changed.
That is already perfect.