"Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back"
Long time since I wrote something, whenever I see lines of beauty I feel a sense of bitterness with a slight remorseful guilt. lol, I wanted to imply sadness so a slight usage of bitterness guilt and remorse.
I love to write, yet why dont I? I love to read but still its just a miniscule part of my life, do I give my time to my loved one's? Not that too, where's my time??
Unrecorded thoughts comes and goes in my mind, if ever there was a place to store all that ever came to our minds , something much more brilliant than the deceptive memory. We remember things that have happened, things that we want to happen, things we wish could have happened. But can memory ever bring us back the wonderfully weird thoughts, sometimes beautiful sometimes stupid little strands of words that have evoked the philosopher in us, the little moments that triggered those thoughts. The always amazing discussions born out of brew, we talk about movies, we talk about games, about football, about poems,about women, about thoughts themselves, the enigma that people are, the bigger enigma that life is, women, relationships, the universe, GOD himself, Art, women. These moments maybe recorded but are the thoughts? The great reel that life is, never gives us that, the past or unrecorded memory is a glimpse of bullet points but can we ever relive those moments? For that we have an absolute answer devoid of any conditional words.
I am not sure if any of the above made any sense and I hate reading through this again to see if it made any sense, coz you wont get that same opputunity in life. So tara!
Stretched to the point of no turning back"
Long time since I wrote something, whenever I see lines of beauty I feel a sense of bitterness with a slight remorseful guilt. lol, I wanted to imply sadness so a slight usage of bitterness guilt and remorse.
I love to write, yet why dont I? I love to read but still its just a miniscule part of my life, do I give my time to my loved one's? Not that too, where's my time??
Unrecorded thoughts comes and goes in my mind, if ever there was a place to store all that ever came to our minds , something much more brilliant than the deceptive memory. We remember things that have happened, things that we want to happen, things we wish could have happened. But can memory ever bring us back the wonderfully weird thoughts, sometimes beautiful sometimes stupid little strands of words that have evoked the philosopher in us, the little moments that triggered those thoughts. The always amazing discussions born out of brew, we talk about movies, we talk about games, about football, about poems,about women, about thoughts themselves, the enigma that people are, the bigger enigma that life is, women, relationships, the universe, GOD himself, Art, women. These moments maybe recorded but are the thoughts? The great reel that life is, never gives us that, the past or unrecorded memory is a glimpse of bullet points but can we ever relive those moments? For that we have an absolute answer devoid of any conditional words.
I am not sure if any of the above made any sense and I hate reading through this again to see if it made any sense, coz you wont get that same opputunity in life. So tara!
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