100 to 200

Only what seems like a second goes by, and I look back on a poem I wrote. It's called time:

In the blackness around me
I have no hope of returning
But even in the darkness that shrouds my vision
And the echoes that break the dreaded silence of nature
There are lights that guide my eyes
And these stars trace a trail of the ones before us
I hear foreign voices singing their joyous songs
"everything before is lived
and now is the future"

I want to hold onto these wonderful moments like I would a butterfly, just gently enough that it feels safe, but just enough pressure so that it doesn?t leave, even though I know it has a big world to see.

My brother goes off to Alaska in a few days, and he said when he gets to the top of the highest mountain he climbs in Alaska, he will place this flag on the top, a symbol forever of our brotherhood.