I used to think this world was a gift from our ancestors, a possession that we may bend to our will to our liking. That was what I used to think. The older I get however the nature of relationship changed, man and this world is not of ownership. What is often mistaken as a gift from those who come before, is rather a temporary loan from those who have yet to come, our descendants. Man does not own, merely charged with the duty to keep it and take care of it, the only say he has in the matter is what kind of world he will hand back.
It is a fool who seeks to build a monument for the greatest of his ancestors, for all he had to do was witness his own reflection, he was their greatest memory, a living one. He bore their likeness in a way no statue or painting ever would, carried their legacy within his own veins. His every action in good faith would testify to their magnificence that no historical account could quantify.
“Upon your death if you leave your money and property in a generation it will be squandered, reduced to nothing. Leave this world knowledge and enlightenment, you left the world a limitless bank account from which all of mankind can withdraw from.”