Nobody's tomorrow is guaranteed.
You. Mine. Nobody.
Yeah! Nobody gets a promise of "afterwards".
It is right here. Right now.
It is the breath we inhale. Or exhale.
The vice versa, well ... that is a huge question mark.
We live in piece meals. Postponing living.
All the while waiting for a tomorrow we have not seen, we are not sure of.
And the present is crumpled and consigned to shadows.
The hands wipe a layer of dust from the windows of yesterday.
A lifeful of regrets peep through.
Trust me, it does not take time for time to become a memory.
Folds of Autumn
Folds of Autumn Some seasons arrive softly— in a lingering moon, distant birdsong, and memories that blush across the horizon. And when the ...
Monday, December 8, 2014
Monday's measly minutes #5
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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.