we live, we live, we live
all of time is simultaneous and matter tends towards perfection
the moment is constant, people are fickle,
the day has gone by, another age, and
I'm not a child anymore.
what tragedy there is in growing up, we'll all never lay siege
to the dreams we had as children, when our view was wide
the world was exciting
and there was so much happiness tucked into every fold of life.
I dont think ill ever truly know myself, or ever truly know anything
but I know now, that even if I dont,
I'll be alright.
YOU ARE READING
Almond Blossoms
PoesíaNamed after my favorite Van Gogh painting, I try to give some feelings words.
