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James Oct 2019
Like time, are we found through serendipity.
Minutes, a mere tick to unfounded revelation.
Past, are the days when we go subtly by, dissipating into the night sky.

Like time, our corporeal spirits aloft into the pitchy sky.
The tender kiss, a gentle stroke, nuanced by the caressing love of the lunar above.

Like time, are we imprisoned in our own conscious. A mere abstract picture, blown into the winds, caught adrift, and veered into the dark streams of reality's heavy rift.

Like time, we are ethereal wayfarers: youthful beings marked by ephemeral nature, merely to trance the universe's wake.

And like time, our departure ticks till the last grain meets, and the sand flipped, to start all over again, and again, and again.
Jordan Fischer Jul 2016
Towards the end of a mans life
A moment flickers into his mind
A reflection of happiness
A feeling of happiness floods his brain
Fuelled by his memories
This is the help he receives for his unfortunate journey
It makes it palpable
This is what happens when he is not in control

But if he is in control
Then the moment becomes his life
The flicker becomes a weight
The weight blocks the happiness
All thats left is the depressing weight
Of the memories he isn't receiving
Now his unfortunate journey feels needed
Because his happy memories
Are not being remembered

Control or not, it's what you leave behind
You will live on
Through everyone you made smile

— The End —