When something real is lost,
Shadows are often mistaken for its return—
Fragments stitched together,
Echoes of what once felt whole.
A borrowed taste here and there
.......
Called resemblance,
Mistaken for revival—
As if devotion could be rebuilt
From scattered details.
But essence is not a pattern,
Not something hands can replicate.
It lives in the unspoken,
In moments that will not repeat.
You may mirror every surface,
Trace every outline once adored—
Hoping her presence lingers in borrowed breath—
Yet what made her so real
Was something that no one could or can ever restore.
The unread person, untaken paths,
Unachieved dreams of theirs left unresolved maths.
But In life’s vast canvas, where choices unfold,
Why mirror another, when you can be gold?
Be the brushstroke—unique and true,
A masterpiece, not a pattern to pursue.
Comparing shadows leads nowhere found,
True confidence blooms in peace, without a sound.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 4:58 PM UTC
When something real is lost,
Shadows are often mistaken for its return—
Fragments stitched together,
Echoes of what once felt whole.
A borrowed taste here and there
.......
Called resemblance,
Mistaken for revival—
As if devotion could be rebuilt
From scattered details.
But essence is not a pattern,
Not something hands can replicate.
It lives in the unspoken,
In moments that will not repeat.
You may mirror every surface,
Trace every outline once adored—
Hoping her presence lingers in borrowed breath—
Yet what made her so real
Was something that no one could or can ever restore.
The unread person, untaken paths,
Unachieved dreams of theirs left unresolved maths.
But In life’s vast canvas, where choices unfold,
Why mirror another, when you can be gold?
Be the brushstroke—unique and true,
A masterpiece, not a pattern to pursue.
Comparing shadows leads nowhere found,
True confidence blooms in peace, without a sound.
#leadermindreader #innerfreedom #independent #peace #serenity