Relentlessly I have this bashing feeling of nostalgia
Of not being able to imagine as I used toThe question is... have we been educated as years pass by?
Or only learnt to learn but not to create
The innocence as a child when I see my son
Asks me hard enough to introspect the less explored me
While ..the heart seeks to write without thinking
My mind pulls back on the consequences
Pulling in all the strength which I seek to have
I wish those words come to me as they use to
But isn’t that how it is….that it should be?
Because your heart still silently smiles as a mute spectator
We often not value all the things we have
To talk straight from the heart has become a privilege
Because in the end it doesn't matter if you lived
All that is whole and complete falls apart without love