We wish upon the eternal sun.
But the ever fleeting time waits for none.
The flowers fall, even the leaves dry up.
The scent of a lover long gone.
Change is the ultimate truth and so is death.
Yet we try to keep that bird clasped.
No matter how beautiful or dear it is,
the one meant to fly ultimately will.
And we cannot point a finger at any
For reasons one or many.
As we all look at things as we please
The truth being the one that puts us to ease.
Right and wrong, good and evil
Separated with a thin line.
Standing on either side of it
Makes us a party to the deed.
We want to keep our bags full
Of everything that our heart wants.
But only if people were things,
we could put them up in locks.
One can only wait for the natural flow of things,
as a mere spectator to the game.
The tighter the grip, the looser it gets.
Just wait for the sun to rise once it sets.
Who are we meant to be and what are we meant to keep,
are questions with limitless possibilities.
The only limiting thing is our beliefs.
As nothing scares us more than not knowing.