So feeble it was, so weak
Deceivingly, valued; pervasively intriguing
Weren’t those laughters mine the other day?
Had time been non-recurring? And yet I pulled it together, tried to
One last time, push through,
To rekindle a sense of being non-existent
To be so full of life,
But the unattainable, remained so.
And I remained what I had become.
With the force dying aloud,
Yet so muffled was its cry,
Neither is it so alike
Nor so close to what expectations be like,
But it’s not so unattainable now
And that, even though is not perfect,
Is still, attainable. Still, existent.
Steps, long, and wide, unending, deprived
Of a walk back, are hard to climb
Especially when the stops are indifferent
To your expectations, to your heart.
But yet, you climb, for its attainable, its existent.
For if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be attainable, you wouldn’t be existent.