Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again
Everyone's growing up. We're moving on, and moving through phases of life, passing through each one and then opening new doors to new lives, to better things. Life is all but the various phases we go through, the many points at which we stop, we grow, we learn, and then we move on and leave everything else behind. Yet within each of these steps, they take up (and take away) such a huge proportion of our lives, of our hearts, and so easily, too easily, are gone just like that.
We count the moments, we live in the now, yet we know the now will pass soon, the now is only now, that years down the road they will be a mere page in an entire journal of the past. What will be contained in that one page? What will comprise the words and images that we take so much effort to detail but yet are one in a thousand? If sixteen years can document so much, how much more twenty, fifty, a hundred?
The minutes tick by one by one, and before we know it we're on to our next phase, we're moving a step forward, we're climbing a step higher. Do we climb on and leave the burden of the past behind, emerging into new territories refreshed, rejuvenated, or are we being weighed down by everything we want to hold on to?
It's as though you want to grab onto everything, to not forget, to treasure, to reminisce, to remember. I choose to be held back, but does that mean I can't move on? Or must I choose to let the past be the past, to let images be what they are, and let the dances of today's celebrations ring now, then fade into memory once the dawn breaks?
Why can't one have everything without giving up some things?
We count the moments, we live in the now, yet we know the now will pass soon, the now is only now, that years down the road they will be a mere page in an entire journal of the past. What will be contained in that one page? What will comprise the words and images that we take so much effort to detail but yet are one in a thousand? If sixteen years can document so much, how much more twenty, fifty, a hundred?
The minutes tick by one by one, and before we know it we're on to our next phase, we're moving a step forward, we're climbing a step higher. Do we climb on and leave the burden of the past behind, emerging into new territories refreshed, rejuvenated, or are we being weighed down by everything we want to hold on to?
It's as though you want to grab onto everything, to not forget, to treasure, to reminisce, to remember. I choose to be held back, but does that mean I can't move on? Or must I choose to let the past be the past, to let images be what they are, and let the dances of today's celebrations ring now, then fade into memory once the dawn breaks?
Why can't one have everything without giving up some things?