Move on

Impossible to hold on,

Difficult to forget…
They shimmer, those wispy strands,
Then float out of reach.
And you know with a leaden heart,
The futility of the pursuit

Of them, the ghosts of yesterday.

For they are gone,
With the ticking of the clock’s hands
To accommodate ‘now’.
Despite of your whispered protests.
They’ve glided away,
Like molten glass on wax…
And today, they soar near the treetops,
Just on the periphery of your vision,
Tantalizing,
Calling you back,
Just as you stand on the brink of the unknown ‘new’,
Them, memories of love.

Love should not be stifling,

They say.
But distance often is.

How long will you hold on?

They ask.
How soon should I let go?
Sooner than the bond is formed?
No, it’s too late for that.

The bond is formed,

The harm is done.

Why love so deep that one cannot bear separation?
Why fill oneself with empty words of consolation and philosophies?

Everyone has to pass on…
No one, after all, stays forever…

They do, don’t they?
They stay on in our minds,

As wispy silver,

As fluid glass,
As warmth in our hearts,
Embedded in our souls,
Associated with mundane sights and smells,
With sounds and touch,
With beauty and music,
With loneliness and grief.