Worst comes. Pain strikes. Mourns ring.  Depression drowns hope to the depths of the sea. Almost.
They say there's no chance for me to rewind. That there is no such thing as "end of the road." Yeah. I know. It's true. But do I have to rewind? I know there's something across the plain. I don't let go of the grip to hope. Because I know. After pain, pain, pain. Misery, misery, misery. There is always "good," waiting for you at the end of the road.

Being a human means,
you have to deal with a lot of sadness
And by loving someone means,
you have to deal with a lot of goodbyes

Her eyes are a metaphor,
   a conceit, fantasy

No shakespearean sonnet
   even a lyric, will suffice
   to describe the elegance she carries

Her smile, the greatest curve,
   all simile will be denied

Haikus and couplets
   even the long ones
   will not be enough

Her laughter is a song,
   a perfect harmony and melody

She is neither a hyperbole
   nor full of irony
   instead she is perfect rhyme

She is a walking poetry
   a personification of aesthetics

Almost an abstract
   unfathomable beauty
   out of the ordinary

my heart is a rebel to this world
like liquid overflowing
pouring over and clothing the exterior
my love leads the way
and this world follows.


- t.m