Another Year

Time is a strange concept to me. Its flow is so simple, so unfussy. Tick, tock, tick, tock - just sand falling along - creating seconds of life. The incredulity occurs when we start acknowledging the changes this concept brings. How those changes affect me - a person or maybe a community or the world. The acknowledgement of time is painstaking because it makes us realise how cunning or rewarding this basic passage of changes can be.

Another year spent in a jiffy. I mean, it feels that way. After everything's said and done, it feels quick, it feels short but I can't ignore all those moments I wondered how long a certain situation will last. But now, it's just another year. Another year of memories faintly stored in my mind, literally written in pages filled with ink and forever engraved in my heart. Where would I even be had I not remembered the stairs I climbed to stand with a conscience on the map of souls. Although nothing lasts long enough to fit in our criteria of forever, I still love to dream.

I do not know if it is enough to only dream. Probably not. Action is a necessity after dreaming. Why is it that all that the heart desires is deemed wrong? Stereotypes and cliches exist for us to dream more, but the thought of daring runs chills down my spine in the fear of failing, in the fear of being vulnerable to myself. It's a different story that we are not allowed to reach that part of struggle as we're forced to be stuck in the torment of 'what people will think'.

I want to be more than that. I want to feel. But I would like to know if these words are ample. Is the crispness of my thoughts sufficient? I really hope my love is if it's there... if it's blossoming.

Here's to more of wonder and dreams, of happiness and love. Here's to another year that I may soon forget but the reminiscences which burn alive in a far way heart.