The life I love and wish to live,
A hundred years or more to give
May death be but a springy feat.

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and has more to give

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Rain is a song for the day to be
And I wonder if I will ever get to sing it better.
The lyrics of my life and the way it was once,
Through it I will remain, until the final verse.

Rain is a song, and beautiful to hear,
Wind comes along to bring a sense of cheer.
Mosses and greens in the drenching heat,
The branches on the rooftops on a rhythmic beat.
Nothing clings when the raindrops fall,
Sorrows and tears on a chime of hope.

Rain is a song that makes us sing
Pitter and patter, happiness it brings.

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Heaven or hell nothing much,
Life feels long at its quietest time.

Do or don’t, it’s your choice to make
A day off, not a job to pay.

Overgrown moments come to mind,
Memories, not the forever kind.

Butterflies are everywhere, but not the ones I remember.

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1/ My first day at school felt surrealistic to me as I was in the same classroom I occupied as a student.
2/ Before calling out the names, I glanced at the register and saw a name that send a chill vibe through my head, it was the name of a boy who was my class friend too, reported dead in a tragic accident.
3/ As I called the name, the namesake looked up from the same desk, his eyes staring at me.

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In the end we only regret,
Of the roads not taken, and the blooms not met
Not of the land that gave us birth
Or the heart that perished in the mirth,
We march on blind, useless to the cause,
Disappointments and dilemmas slipping in as follies.

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When the sun sets, it overlooks the dirt on the floor,
Seeing instead the dusk that cloaks the snow.
The moon arrives, yet to what end?
All seems eager, eager to hide.

Somewhere silence sits, but to what avail?
Chaos steps in, eager to tip.

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Love is, but
A leaf, off
Old ages charm.

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Ashes to the wind, to earth, and sea
Let what remains be free of will.

Silence be their own, all the departed souls,
How fragile is that feeling that we can never get through.

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What remains is eternity, through everything that’s tangible
How we come, how we leave is the harvest of life’s seed.

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