Each day of life is like a tide in the sea. We don’t know how big it is, or how destructive — but we know that at the end of the day, when we have crossed the tide, we are near the shore, where we can relax for a while, realize how far we have come, having achieved one more success, and prepare ourselves for another day.
Tag: Meaning
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Day of Night
How do I handle this fear,
that trims away a part with every tear?
How do I cross my mind,
when I am swimming in a sea of time?How do I come to know myself,
when I know I am lost within?
How do I show my past —
just the pieces of a broken heart?What should I write about life,
when all I know is that it moves on?
What should I try to forget,
when I have seen myself become a past?Should I believe what I have seen,
or shall I try to live my own?
Should I mourn every day,
or bewilder my thoughts one night?
Should I note everything down,
or shall I forgive, and forget?
Or… should I just be doing it? -
To Be or Not to Be
I would rather cross my mind,
and travel, alone, all of mine;
or behead my day, so full of head,
and, a day or more, live my life…I carry all my deeds,
and the beads of my hate;
I whisper words of shed,
and expect my own side…To the lonely night and day,
I dare to love once again;
travelling all myself, an unknown way,
I recall some of the lost rain.It is turning to summer, for a change,
and I glance back for a familiar face;
but I witness myself in a crime of dilemma:
to be, or not to be, a part of this life again… -
Being a Time
For a while, being a time,
I try remembering myself —
my will, my words,
my pain, and a world of happiness and sorrow;
and, for a time, being myself. -
A Glimpse of Life
It is just a glimpse of life —
the one I love when I close my eyes,
and the one I fear when I open them. -
Way Back
Shall I be lost in the triumph of the one I gain,
or shall I behold the fight of the one I lost?
They are ways to reach the old, and the new —
but why does the shortest so often lead to you? -
Heart of Time
Heart of time…
Day upon day, and turning nights;
every day goes by, one sight;
here and there, belonging of mine —
once, there was a heart of time…Keys of a piano, and melody of sounds;
thunder of the sky, and broken apart;
every time, every day, the mirror does not shine,
left with the broken heart of time…Flying with the speed of the past,
nothing lasts ever, where the race ends;
this is not the end, nor the beginning —
it lies in the anger of time…I bid my love to memories,
immersed in the eyes of time;
lost, but having conquered the world,
living myself, in the heart of time. -
Dichotomy of Love
Come before, and still late to myself;
noise all around inside, and peace outside;
from day to night, and night to hurt,
the ringing, and the silence, of time.In the heart of hate and love,
with the cycle of joy and pain;
destinations with no journey,
one voice — and all of it empty.A recreation of thoughts and incidents,
lasting, though never in your presence;
fame to loss, hate to love —
merely the active dichotomy of your love.