About long ago periods where life seemed to be simpler and easier we scribble.
Of eras when money was plentiful, resting in our palms with peace, earned by ease we write.
For those passed moments, those tranquil and nonviolent, still jiffies we push the pen to paper, or here, the button to screen.
And for the days that we were able to extract some hours out of our daily routine, and take a break, a coffee-break we explore.
Sometimes I do wonder about such days, and I remember how I used to think that something alike is going to accompany me for the rest of my life. For I used to argue that I am the Man of Choice and I am the Man of Selection, it happened that I turned to be the total opposite.
There comes in a life time some moments where you let it go. You feel the rush of a certain idea, you get all excited about it, jolting you where you are standing, jerking you out of your own stability and tranquility… but alas, moments like these are a true alarm of a long dejection. Glumness attacks you. Sadness overwhelms. And the one thing you feel is apt to be done is forgetting and moving along.
Nevertheless, I keep fighting and struggling to attain forcelessly the Days of Lore. They ring in our ears a never-ending bell, which echoes millions of mini-voices, transcending our pessimism into another elevated state.
Of eras when money was plentiful, resting in our palms with peace, earned by ease we write.
For those passed moments, those tranquil and nonviolent, still jiffies we push the pen to paper, or here, the button to screen.
And for the days that we were able to extract some hours out of our daily routine, and take a break, a coffee-break we explore.
Sometimes I do wonder about such days, and I remember how I used to think that something alike is going to accompany me for the rest of my life. For I used to argue that I am the Man of Choice and I am the Man of Selection, it happened that I turned to be the total opposite.
There comes in a life time some moments where you let it go. You feel the rush of a certain idea, you get all excited about it, jolting you where you are standing, jerking you out of your own stability and tranquility… but alas, moments like these are a true alarm of a long dejection. Glumness attacks you. Sadness overwhelms. And the one thing you feel is apt to be done is forgetting and moving along.
Nevertheless, I keep fighting and struggling to attain forcelessly the Days of Lore. They ring in our ears a never-ending bell, which echoes millions of mini-voices, transcending our pessimism into another elevated state.
And such a subject, reminds me of an excerpt from the famous song for Mary Hopkins, "Those WEre The Days", which says:
Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
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