With both nTrude and RK passing recently, as well as so many others over the years, one can't help but consider our own mortality. I'd be lying if I didn't say it's been on my mind lately. I'm 70 now, and as a result, I've been pondering it myself...
All we are is dust in the wind. The words are sobering. We live, we breath, we laugh, we cry. We ride. Oh, we know it all has to end, but subconsciously we don't really want to admit it, or think about it. Dust in the wind? Not me.
We tell ourselves that at least we'll be remembered. There's something comforting about that. We will live on in the hearts and minds of others. Surely our loved ones won't forget. They will hold the memories of our existence in their minds, right? Our story will remain intact, right?
The sad part is the answer to that question is no. We will be forgotten too. Lost in time like everyone else. Dust in the wind. Sure, history records the words and deeds of some, but not really all that many. And even their memories fade as future others stop looking.
Think of the billions of lives already lived, of songs that have been sung, of children born and promises made. All that has come before is gone. And nobody even knows anymore. All is lost in time.
All we are is dust in the wind. Kinda sad. Space travel is a dream.
I had totally forgotten that scene in Stripes. 
