The yellowing leaves scattered in the ground
Talk of times which made it's way into past
The dampened leaves give away a pungent smell
A smell of decay, a smell enough to rot memories
Memories! Do we ever burry them?
One scratch in the wind can bring in memories roaring
The more you distance yourself, the more it tears you apart
Just like a sore wound, it inflicts despair.
The greasy soil underneath your heavy boots
Looses hope each time you trample it
But, come autumn, the soil gets a makeover
Leaves: yellow, brown, withering to its bossom
The world looks robbed but the soil leases life.
A poet may love spring, but a decaying heart sings for those scattered pieces of leaves mingling in the soil,
For what is dead can make things alive.
I wasn't always who I am today. It took a lot of courage to break past my shell. Oscar Wilde had once stated that knowing what you want to be in life becomes a curse because you invariably become that but not knowing is liberating, there are endless possibilities of who you can become. I too didn't know who I was going to be. Today, I realise it was liberating. I never knew i could find my voice some day. Now that I feel liberated,it becomes difficult to remain confined. We need to grow, evolve into better beings each day. We need to grow past the "checks and balances" of life. I remember Fuller here, Fuller has asked us to be a part of a process of this evolving planet. He wants us to be "verbs" not "nouns"! Here is a tale of an introverted me who knew not what to expect from life . ....... I would talk less at school, not attend socialising events, avoid looking at stranger's eyes while on the road. In short, I wanted to be invisible to t...
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