You have been staring at screens.
You have been searching for something.
Pause.

Breathe with the circle.

Inhale as it grows. Exhale as it shrinks.
Realize that you are nowhere else but here.

This is an 80-year human life in weeks.

Every box is one week. The white boxes are already gone.
The dark boxes are all you have left.

Look at your hands.

The iron in your blood.
The calcium in your bones.
The nitrogen in your brain.

Every heavy atom in your body was forged in the core of a dying star billions of years ago.

You are not in the universe.

You are a temporary arrangement of stardust.
For a brief, impossible moment, you have been given consciousness.

You are not a person looking at the universe.
You are the universe, experiencing itself.

Your time is ticking.

Close this tab.
Go outside.
Look up at the sky.