The duration of time we speak of as days
is just our stories breaking and bleeding
from moment to another.
The fragments of our memories
are just bookmarks to pages
with words that has been long erased.
And all that we are left with
are threads of time suspended in our eyes,
that really isn’t here
and yet it is the only thing we have
and the only thing we want.
Just another daily photo blog by Christoph Bardtke
L'oreille du taureau à la fenêtre De la maison sauvage où le soleil blessé Un soleil intérieur de terre Tentures du réveil les parois de la chambre Ont vaincu le sommeil Paul Eluard
czyli kilka słów i przemyśleń z fotografią w tle
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photography and other things
the portfolio - in progress
... mobius faith imaging ...
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The best part of reading your poem is that I could see reflection of my life in your words. Keep writing Nayana.
Pleased to hear that 🙂 I believe though the specifics of what and hoe is different in everyone’s life , but at some time we all feel the same things. Glad you could relate with my poem 🙂
Thanks a lot :):D