Is the blinking of your eye a greater task,
Is it because the world is too much to take in,
Is breathing ,is walking, is the beating of a heart -
the clockwork you forget about,
an unfailing companion from the start,
is the beating of your heart close enough
to ripple your jaw today?
They say the world will not end
with this and that,
not with failing the gargantuan examination,
not with the itch of predestined disease,
not when someone shakes you out of your delusion.
Heck, the world will not end
Even if you do.
But yours will.
What we grow from day to day
is not a new heart or younger eyelids,
We grow memories in the magnitude
that only memories can grow in.
And they become a mirror of
what we want
and what we want no more of
And only memories are visitors
when there will be no visitors tomorrow.
And when tomorrow will be the same as
And beauty is and youth is
a scandal of
And if the look in someone's eyes
is bribe enough,
what you want is yet not
Beauty will follow purpose,
and the time is