Attachment till when its allowed, detachment thenceforth. You'd do well to be happy for what you had, but the memories will always project into your days, what could have been. Its a wise man that can let go, but wisdom entails a certain coldness of spirit, a rigidity of boundaries, that cannot co-exist with a mind in flight with disdainful wings outstretched.
When the void is bigger than the life you've lived, what then will you fill it with?
The spirit within the bottle or the smoke from inside the green shisha? A haze, A mirage to drape that gaping hole. A silver fabric to make the loneliness a little bearable, even beautiful, at times. A shudder, the dam breaks and then the deluge.
Much later, you stumble awkwardly into sleep, a slumber much safer than the waking life that awaits behind the horizon of the night sky. You know there will be water under that bridge again, the same one on which you stand day after day and watch yourself living, loving, hurting and healing.
But knowing is never enough, never has been. So we will go through this yet again, always learning something about ourselves, as long as we don't descend into a stupor of foolishness, dictated by the hubris of man. A self assumed weight, known to have thumbed the strongest of men and women, into the clay beneath our feet.
It never felt so good to cry
When the void is bigger than the life you've lived, what then will you fill it with?
The spirit within the bottle or the smoke from inside the green shisha? A haze, A mirage to drape that gaping hole. A silver fabric to make the loneliness a little bearable, even beautiful, at times. A shudder, the dam breaks and then the deluge.
Much later, you stumble awkwardly into sleep, a slumber much safer than the waking life that awaits behind the horizon of the night sky. You know there will be water under that bridge again, the same one on which you stand day after day and watch yourself living, loving, hurting and healing.
But knowing is never enough, never has been. So we will go through this yet again, always learning something about ourselves, as long as we don't descend into a stupor of foolishness, dictated by the hubris of man. A self assumed weight, known to have thumbed the strongest of men and women, into the clay beneath our feet.
It never felt so good to cry
And never felt this right.
Pain did never flow out so,
Like it does tonight.
In the face of this squall
Do not build a wall.
Dive in and feel it swell.
Feel it all and feel it well.
