The Dried Ink


Under the burden of yesteryears,
Beneath the shadow of the past,
We embark on to re-write,
The tales of the gone,
The chronicles of our fate.

Yet!
And yet, all for a failed attempt!

What has happened,
Cannot be changed.
Nor can be erased.
For the ink has dried,
The brushstrokes have halted,
The story has sequeled.
Not a breath to be redrawn,
Not an inch to be slighted.

Life, nonetheless, went on.
Burying the past,
In the awe of the present,
Life moves on,
While we hang on
To the nostalgic beyond.


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