The past stood witness to my present uncertainty while future was evasive. And it is this uncertainty of the present and the evasiveness of times to come that gives birth to poetry and poetic words. The standstill time stays put, the moment doesn't pass, yet the day is gone. In gathering these moments the life is gone. What gives us a reason to wrap up these bits into one whole is our dreams, the reason to live. Dreams, even while staying silent, speak volumes. Give words to your dreams and they come alive!
Turning the pages of life I find some words half-baked, some half-erased, others half-written. I choose to tell those tales now.
I too have grumbled at bitter loss, have experienced the pain of being a lost winner, my eyes have had tear behind laughter and lips trying to hide pangs of pain. Yet I always believe one should hold on and keep trying to string the fallen beads. In the end, the story of what has been will connect to what will be, though the moorings of the past will never be snapped!
