Unrequited Love
The retrospective of life, is often followed by regrets and repentance. The vengeance is, time is unidirectional. Some forgive, some forget. Life does go on. Not sure if breathing and living can be termed synonyms, however at some point of time, they do behave synonymic. Being condemnatory of our past, is sometimes transcendent. The definitive truth still remains unchanged. Evolution heals the past abrasions but the marks are unconcealed. Seasons change and so do time, people and situations. But deep inside, there is still that one person, whom we try and rifle in everyone. The pursuit endures until bereavement.
True love is a misapprehension, it’s fictitious. But truth is perpetual. We love because we believe, not because we judge. No one can vouch on the candour of one’s love. Love is eternity but true love is a limbo to the modern man. The only truth is time. Life consists of moments, moments which we cherish, moments we desire, moments long lost and some moments which we spurn. Each such reminiscent moment defines our life, our love, our belief.
Mistakes are irremediable and so are words. Some words touch us profoundly and others hurt us with the same magnitude. Words you can’t forget and words you don’t want to reminisce. Words you don’t think of before speaking and words once pronounced, can’t be taken back. The damage non speculated at the moment, creates a memoir later.
No one dies without someone, but if breathing can be called living is still an unrequited quest. Can we demarcate life? The answer resides in life itself. Such a capricious mystery it is! Not even a prodigious gumshoe can uncover it. The only alternative is to be incarnate. The best ploy to be ecstatic is not to be despondent. Sounds rhetoric but is pragmatic. Happiness is the crux of life but moments are the mien. Unrequited Love is always convoyed by agony, so, behold!
Unbelievable!!! So very proud of you dear…Loved each n every line…Feelings can’t be expressed better than this…Hats OFF!! Keep posting wonderful pieces like this.
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Love the unrequited rhyme and the ideas.
Although, I like to think there is a line where happiness and contentment become separate goals, that pain is the anvil on which the spirit of man is beaten into form and that life is worth the living when there is more than just breath. Although, when breath becomes air, life is no more part of it.
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