Nothing can be permanent for everything is transient. The ring on the finger can be lost for many reasons, whether accidental or not, it just can never be retrieved. Sometimes things can be restored, they can be replicated; yet nothing is ever the same. Like bitemarks, every damage is distinctly stark, & while the damage is done the mark can fade, but the pain can remain.
Words, what's said and what's left unsaid, can hurt beyond limits of comprehension -- perhaps its karma due that I am bound to serve this life. Nonchalance affect more than any other along the gamut of concern. & its all the more embarrassing having to point out expectations, for everything vocalised and acted upon may lack twice in sincerity.
Everything then, has to be left as it is. Waiting for penance is the only hopeful way out. But if laboriousness of it all supersedes the want to please, then, what for do we try to sustain?
Like the dead fawn, abused & pitied over its miserable fate; & there's the scavengers taking advantage of death & chewing still at the almost empty carcasses, is hollowing & spiritually disturbing.
To what extent will you then cease to hurt & start to revert?
No comments:
Post a Comment