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"Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume." I'd never say that, that's Boufflers trying to impress with a lie.
Remembrance of a pleasure is a micro second of a curved lip or what we call a smile and then the switch to melancholy in countless journeys of the sand in an hourglass. That's the divine balance we all curse. No one wants to do justice in present or future, when the seeker is a character with an innocent look to his wet eyes, demarcations of wisdom on his wrinkled forehead, a sigh for justice cuffed and trembling in between its dry lips, and a coat of a shabby dress covering his disguise to life. The character is pain, divided and tore apart by perceptions.
The Creator then created the past, the 'Memories'. He created them to balance happiness and pain, to make happiness give way for pain to revenge the cruel acts of a human it's been a victim to. We're tied to the troubling ropes of memories, we fly high with our eyes shut, we forget the very ground we soar from, we're dreamers. Hence the alarming pulls by memories to haunt us, to dig deep and create the hollow in between, to make us realize the frail creatures we are, to help us know the limits to our potentials, to cease the moments of fragile promises being broken time and time again...
The fall ends, we mourn, we cry. The ego bends to dry our eye.. And the winds of consciousness take over, and we surge up high to our fall, a faster rise of a slower goer..
Blurred and breached, from the buried chronicle, I stand again
Floating with the ticking yore, trying to alter links in my hapless chain
Locked up inside the fortress of my wrenching past, that once stood tall
Rustles of gaping walls, peaching my misery just when they're about to fall
Hanging by the threads of my foggy intellect, I salvage my unshed-tears
The un-felt throb lingers in the unsung lyrics but subsides in mute-fears
Unveil `spring` for the last leaf on my heart is about to hug and embrace descent
My eruptive madness is about to induce an emotional suicide, my `fall` has felt ascent
Permit the frigid breeze to kiss my cheek
Let the unversed driblet supplant the enlightened creek
Let the goosy days, chase away the wisest plays
Let my euphoric dead memories take over the living me, in enchanting ways
Remembrance of a pleasure is a micro second of a curved lip or what we call a smile and then the switch to melancholy in countless journeys of the sand in an hourglass. That's the divine balance we all curse. No one wants to do justice in present or future, when the seeker is a character with an innocent look to his wet eyes, demarcations of wisdom on his wrinkled forehead, a sigh for justice cuffed and trembling in between its dry lips, and a coat of a shabby dress covering his disguise to life. The character is pain, divided and tore apart by perceptions.
The Creator then created the past, the 'Memories'. He created them to balance happiness and pain, to make happiness give way for pain to revenge the cruel acts of a human it's been a victim to. We're tied to the troubling ropes of memories, we fly high with our eyes shut, we forget the very ground we soar from, we're dreamers. Hence the alarming pulls by memories to haunt us, to dig deep and create the hollow in between, to make us realize the frail creatures we are, to help us know the limits to our potentials, to cease the moments of fragile promises being broken time and time again...
The fall ends, we mourn, we cry. The ego bends to dry our eye.. And the winds of consciousness take over, and we surge up high to our fall, a faster rise of a slower goer..
Blurred and breached, from the buried chronicle, I stand again
Floating with the ticking yore, trying to alter links in my hapless chain
Locked up inside the fortress of my wrenching past, that once stood tall
Rustles of gaping walls, peaching my misery just when they're about to fall
Hanging by the threads of my foggy intellect, I salvage my unshed-tears
The un-felt throb lingers in the unsung lyrics but subsides in mute-fears
Unveil `spring` for the last leaf on my heart is about to hug and embrace descent
My eruptive madness is about to induce an emotional suicide, my `fall` has felt ascent
Permit the frigid breeze to kiss my cheek
Let the unversed driblet supplant the enlightened creek
Let the goosy days, chase away the wisest plays
Let my euphoric dead memories take over the living me, in enchanting ways
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