Who can define life,
But he that is beyond living
Who has touched the cold stone of death
And now travels on muted lips
He no longer smiles or sneeze in the cold
Neither does he feel the warmth of summer love
He has no days or time to remember,
No love to find or hatred to serve
He is all alone but who can know
He’s the one that can define life
He’s the one that wants to know
That in the end he was always the one.
M. V. Echa
Author’s Note: The greatest poems are never written for the whole world, but for that distant soul that is close to the reach of our dreams.
Where can we find the light, except in our little hearts that so many choose to ignore. Where can we find the truth, except in those little thoughts that come as though forgotten.
Reality is like dew; it comes in the morning, before you make the day or call a name. It’s your first experience, whenever you think of it and whatever you think it is.
Make the effort, no matter how little. They say: “start from the start”. That’s a good advice. Don’t deny yourself of that passion, that thrill, that could be all the reason for your existence.
Some of the greatest experiences of life can be found in common places and among presumed common people. So don’t just say hi, indulge and observe, you could have your first wind coming.
Purpose is a gift; it’s a conviction, but sadly not so many people have it. Don’t be one of them, no matter what. Be convinced of something, make it your truth and carry on, and if the gods are not with you, I am and always will.