The sounds of spring that blossomed so erotically on autumn now has been starting to fall apart…wither by the cold winter that sends a chill down my spine. Should I disdain the thoughts…disown it as if it never came and look for a new life…world again? I do not know what I should do next because a thought of the myriad girl pops up to my heart making me reluctant and confused every time I think of ‘new.’ The haunting thoughts makes my nights and days as endless and prolonged to eternity although a day has a short life of just twenty four hours…twelve hours of day and the same of night.
An existence so real yet tries to disillusion me by making itself seem as an unreal existence. Could my words be so strong to draw it towards to me?...and if not, what would the alternative be?
I search for ways as the emotions that runs deep and wild within my heart can never be expressed by immortal words but only by mortal heart that pounds and longs for its presence when we depart; and even when we meet.
The lingering sounds of tranquility has been replaced by the thoughts and notes of confusion. To it, the spring of autumn has been refrained by the unexpected winter to which the spring could not stand…last long enough although its feet were strong from base.
The wonderful days of my joy still exists and will continue to last despite the turbulent times we face and will continue to face. That is life I say…cherish the good moments and learn from bad. After all, life is all about learning, isn’t it?
That is why life is a flow…change, but can’t it be stagnant at times? Like the pond…not the streams that touches the rivers from heights?...that touches the silent water below with massive strength as it tries to hold back everything cherished…trying not to fall down from the source…trying not to forget everything? I wonder why we can’t.
After all, not everything is the changing and flowing river…is it? Some are stagnant like the pond…aren’t they? If it is, I ask, why do people change and always compare themselves with the river? Why not with the still pond at times?
If I could…and I am a soft and pure pond that gives life to others and yet remains the same till I exist…
I continue to echo my existence in my surrounding while others experience and live in me, and pass away with time.
Who is guilty? I now wonder. Is it me? Is it those who forget me after they pass away or the time that has made me to eternity by the words I write…by the words you read…by the words that are made to exist forever; yet again by time…
About Me
- Pratik Rimal
- Kathmandu, Nepal
- Ever since I first started to write my first poem and article, I've loved to write. I continue to learn to write. In doing so, I let my feelings, thoughts, and emotions run wild and let people know what I intend to say, what I want to say. For me, writing is a creative expression to express what we never can say by speaking... Your readings and feedback are always important to me. Therefore, I wish that you'd write to me. My email address: pratik.rimal@hotmail.com Cell: +977-98511-42610
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