I have stumbled on another ending, a new beginning maybe,
another one. I am drunk on good-byes! They don’t seem to end and yet they haunt
me, reminding me of the past lost; the melancholy of losing what I acquired and
of that which I didn’t. People loved and lost, people that I know will be lost,
now sooner than ever, in the ramble of life as another one of the dreaded
ending approaches. Change. Unsettling, unidentified and mysterious adventures
that start afresh, clouded with the pains and rains of the farewell. String of
the past we may hold on to, even resemble the present to it but that, that time
and gleam won't be there. The past cannot be the present, or the present the
future. We'll walk on regardless of our efforts to stay behind because in truth
the past is what propels us forward, either by a desire to start anew or to
blind the pains from the past. Change I hate too but change cannot be forgone,
as imminent as it is. For we meet to part and we enter to leave.
Momina.
