How easy it is for a photograph to take you to the past.
The past that has turned it’s back towards you.
How easy it is for the smell to take you back to the person.
The person who is no more a part of your existence.
How easy it is for a written piece of memory to take you back to the days when you made fun of the handwriting.
The handwriting that is out of your reach now.
How easy it is for a smile on someone’s face to make you cry on the happiest of days.
The smile that you yearned to experience since years.
I don’t know why, the past lures you so much right now.
I don’t know why, the past seems so perfect right now.
You don’t know why.
I don’t know why.
How, you want to go back in time and be the way you used to be.
Yet, you want to go ahead in time, to see what changes take place.
Taking one day at a time, it’s the infinite memories that don’t cease to make me ponder.
I think. We’re all here, mistaken.
We cry, when we are supposed to smile.
We crib, when we are supposed to let it go.
We fight, when we are supposed to forgive.
We love people, when we are supposed to love ourselves.
Memories, they should be our strength, rather than weakness.
People, they should be our support, rather than our addiction.
Love, it should be in your actions, rather than in your words.
I wonder, how often we cease to realise what we realise.
I wonder, how often we cease to exist when we exist.
I wonder, how often we mean what we mean.
I wonder, how often people love when they love.
I wonder, how often the destined is destined.
Inspite of all, we’re here, in this web of people, trying to cope up.
Inspite of all, we’re here, in this web of memories, trying to move forward.
Inspite of all, we’re happy, happy to have made mistakes grave enough to evolve.
Inspite of all, we’re fighting. Fighting to stay alive, to feel alive.
Inspite of all, we’re smiling, to have the courage to take a leap forward.
To move a step closer to our dreams.
Bits of paper, bits of paper.
Lying on the floor, lying on the floor.
Makes the place untidy, makes the place untidy.
Pick them up, pick them up.
Pick them up, darling.
Life Is After All Beautiful