The things we’ve done

It’s been eleven years now. More than a decade. We’ve done so many more things in eleven years.

Hated more.
Bombed more.
Killed more.

But what have we learned?

That we’re all the same? All human? That we all bleed when pricked? That we all cry when in pain?

All we are, all we need, all we depend upon… everything we have and we have ever done is right here—and only here—on this little rock hurtling through a vast emptiness.

And yet.

What saddens me most isn’t what we did that day, it’s what we’ve done in all the days that followed.


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