Melancholic Remembering



Why does it always feel the good old days much better....even best? Darn, I miss my childhood days....well, even those days of my misadventure as an employee I yearn. We simply grow too old too fast.... why did I ever wish then that time would tick faster? Was it because of the destination now?
   
   There was simply some pain that time can not erase. I didn't mean to bring or caused you heartaches. There were happy times anyways.... The moment to feel, the moment simply faded. Dust in the wind...





A Masterpiece
The canvas of life
start with a signature...
Our birth mark...Our name;
Doodle of innocence
Instinct, untamed.
Then youthful abstraction
Bolder....intense
Ideologies, Visions and
Dream.
Some turns Romantic,
Classic and Pop
While others surreal
Hyper....Cubism
Some can't cope-up
and remain imitation
Dadaist of fate
in a Landscape of restoration
Then we cherish our Title
Or Artist unknown
Collections of still-lifes
Accolade or shame.
Then on that one final stroke
Life simply become impressions
Shaded and mellow
The Framer sets in
Carved in marble stone
A calligrapher's duty
An Artists'
Rest In Peace

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Crying Part

Summer Time and The Hectic Days

Stay Still