To love, is to lose.
To love, is to choose.
To love, is to the ocean blue.
However to love, sometimes maybe to never have a clue.
For to love, is just to do.
To love, is to lose.
To love, is to choose.
To love, is to the ocean blue.
However to love, sometimes maybe to never have a clue.
For to love, is just to do.
As time flies, there’ll be instances where things are gonna take its place and you realise that all that you are would suffice the other half but never yourself.
You realise that even when time is on your side, you’ll never have it all. Not when time is only the delusion of man, it fades back to where the mind and heart resides. Right from the beginning. Getting out of a vicious cycle where not many succeeds, only the best of pure hearts who did righteous deeds and are aware of the upcoming seasons that changes and goes, which never meant to stay.
But what’s interesting is the sheer understanding of the life after and what it has in store. It is all in, every bit and piece that no eye can perceive, no mind can dream, its out of sight but never out of reach.
With clear determination and a pure intention in enravelling the journey towards it will one only realise the infinite treasures thats kept in. And sometimes life has its funny way of doing things, a destiny written long before time even determines. Just the need to have a little faith and trust for what is destined and for what that stays within.
Thoughts down,
Right there on 11/15,
by Lily.
I can’t write of hope.
I can’t write of love.
But I can write of egomaniacal thirst and hunger.
I can write of prevailed disappointments and anger.
But I don’t want to.
I can’t write them.
That’s why I can’t write.