There’s something about worn gravestones that really appeals to me. There’s a discontinuity about them. They’re both standing memorials to those who have gone before us but there’s also an element of mystery now that the writing on the stone is so weathered as to not be legible anymore.
I think it’s symbolic about all of our journeys on this mortal coil. We all have our time here to make our marks. No matter how indelible they are, though, eventually we will fade from memory. Though their memory will carry on much longer than you or I, even Alexander the Great or Ceasar will be forgotten.
All we can hope for, then, is that there will be a hand reaching out for us guiding us to whatever waits beyond. Be it a deity, a loved one who has preceded us on the final journey or just a new friend waiting for us, hope for that eternal embrace where our memories won’t be forgotten is the balm for the temporal nature of our time here.