Wow. It's been exactly a year since we last posted (literally, limitations of art; 5th august 2021). But, we're back and I wanted to try to post something different today. This is a space for philosophical ideas and contemplating on various topics that come to our mind out of the blue but there's no limitation to art... right, right? Since there's no specific label or category, I present to you this... piece of prose? poetry? something that came to my mind which I had to vomit out on a sheet of paper.
We were here,
We were there,
But now we’re not,
And all that’s left,
Are markings on a wall,
That will fade over time,
Just like the strings of our bonds,
Will soon be too thin to survive,
And when they break,
Someone will get white paint,
And clean up the mess we made.
We were here,
We were there,
But now we’re not,
Core memories made,
With people who will disappear,
Once this is over.
So strange to look back,
And think of the time we had,
While not thinking of each other at all.
We were here,
We were there,
But now we’re not,
And now the end is near,
it’s time to embrace your fear,
of growing old and change,
Get ready to move onto a different phase.
Because someone will get white paint,
And clean up the mess we made,
But, perhaps, a sliver of our colours,
Might just remain.
