wipeout
tonight,
tonight we search for lost time
tonight we bid for the past
the lights,
the dreams we have
the streets with the rushing crowd
where does lost time disappear to?
when we make too much haste of things
we don't stop
to notice people, or things, or ourselves
we walk without looking
forgetting that hurrying doesn't always make up for time
it sometimes kills it
slow down
look around
and find out what you've been missing all around
the old woman by the roadside with a lost look
the kid who lost his ball
the squabbling lovers
your heartbeat
come back to the present, and the future will take care of itself
...
in my field of vision at the very moment, i see the city lights. they look a bit like a thousand lit candles, some burning brighter than others. like miles of fire. in a distance i can still see the scurrying of people, oblivious to the sights around them. hurrying home, hurrying out, and here i am lost in the season. the breathtaking view i take for granted all the nights and all the mornings (when i'm home).
i promise i am going to be best friends with my window because it never fails to awe me.
a little closer to home, my room looks excruciatingly messy.
[Note to self: Do something]
and here comes the fireworks, showering the skies with colored ember. i wonder what happens to it when it all settles down.