There are insects preserved forever in amber.

Mammoth bones rendered stock still by wire and mesh; held in suspension and reserve by the low light and hush of dusty, half forgotten museums.

Photographs of unknown relatives, smiles frozen for eternity in black and white, at the back of an album no one pulls from the shelf and lazily leafs through anymore.

Leaves that have fallen from long ago trees; their fleeting images caught in perfect symmetry by quick curing cement.

The past below us, rising up to meet our hurried footfalls, going unnoticed as we only look up and never down.

Supporting us as we race to leave our own mark on the world.

Knowing they will outlast us all.