Life moves in stories..
Sometimes same,sometimes different..
Some blank pages remain,to write countless stories we live..
Sometimes we write the stories of countless,yet remain blissfully ignorant..
Sometimes we live the story we write,yet seldom can we smile..
In the chase of stories,of life ,of lives,of lifetimes and of course of time,
Enjoying the wind as it whips past ears,
Life moves ahead..
What remains is stories..
Stories as old as time..
