The Joy That We Remember
The joy that we remember,
Is something that lives on,
The nature of burning embers
Made us so fugitive!
Our past years made us believe
For what is most worthy to be blessed;
Delight and liberty, the sympathy of creed.
Of a childhood, whether busy or sat rested,
With butterflies fluttering inside her breast,
Thinking of all those being raised;
But one of the most obstinate questions
It don't make sense inwards or outwards,
People falling for us, then vanish;
Left with Blank misgivings like a creature
Moving about in a world not realising,
Putting high instincts before our mortal nature
Feeling trembled with a guilt a thing surprised;
Breaking and having no affection
Seeing a shady spirit of recollection,
A pattern left by red puffy eyes know one could see;
Brown eyelashes hid pigment of suede
A history of a stranger still to be untold,
Sat on furniture that leather is made.
And the candle light will burn all day;
Are the master's light one of the strangest ray?
Weakened by soulful cries
Shoulders fall side by side with teardrops,
Bowed heads and heavy eyes?
Didn't want to be broken?
Just want to be held, cherished, and have power,
Noisy moments not taking it awfully hard.
Can't be without another hour
Not to Perish Never;
Filled with passion and endeavour,
None of this tears, just laughter
Break eternity and Silence: truth awakes;
One neither listens, Nor goes mad,
Hence a calm moment making us sad
Can utter abolish or destroy!
Or will it leave enmity with joy.
