Tired, sore, and alone

Just so tired to work or think. Time moves like "shooting stars" - here one moment, gone the next, so fleeting, leaving no trace on the horizon.

When I was young I've always wondered where shooting stars go, although I was always fascinated, and at the same time afraid, with lightning. Lightning kills. I've seen trees, houses and lives destroyed in our province because of lightning.

I was always afraid of fleeting moments, of passing fancy, of short or shortened lives. I've always wondered what meaning there is for people whose lives are cut short either by poverty, sickness, war, or accidents. How does it feel to pass this world like lightning, for only a moment, like a shooting star.

The season for rains and typhoons and storms is here again. There will be more lightnings, there will be more deaths, there will be lives lost, lives forgotten, like dying stars, falling.

Unlike politicians with a vision to live and reign in the next 100 years, if not forever, it helps to remember that we, ordinary mortals, are just passing by, like "shooting stars," like lightning. Here today, gone tomorrow.