The anti-end
In a blaze of inadequacy towers burn. What once was is yet to change and the interim spreads its arms, enshrouding the past and the future with its ominous tentativeness.
We, who do not worship the moment, look at the interim with the scorn of familiarity. And it smiles back at us, that wily usurer. It knows that the result was decided before the game began. To live, another day, great sacrifices are made. Make it worthwhile.
We, who do not worship the moment, look at the interim with the scorn of familiarity. And it smiles back at us, that wily usurer. It knows that the result was decided before the game began. To live, another day, great sacrifices are made. Make it worthwhile.
posted at
10:12 AM
1 Comments:
In the infinite space of the universe,
what wonder that life begins...
In the finite age of a man,
what wonder that happiness
remains hidden...
In the momentary tugs of the heart,
what wonder that sorrow
takes root.
It is never too late to begin afresh.
Every moment is a gift,
But the faint breeze in the night
is unfelt by the heavy heart.
And morning comes,
the stars fade...
And this day is gone,
gone forever.
Never to happen again.
By
Harmanjit Singh, at 7:37 PM
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