There is something very selfish about dreams. Remembrance is a trespasser. And still, every night I dream of you, you of one and one of many. We circle, forget and again indulge. Futility has an attraction of its own . Watermarks! A life that we live but we wish. A truth we see but what we believe. A dream that is awake and another that is asleep. Light is bent for everything that happens with our without us. I wish I will touch the Sun on the horizon,someday. Can emotions be that cold ever? Never if they are alive. If... In between life and death, I count dreams. and cross tress with white chalks So that in the morning I can just walk upto that and believe what we don't wish to. We are taught I can only strive for a wish. They should always be like tomorrows and yesterdays. Between them we are, we live, and nomore. I believe, I will meet me one night To forget how to remember. And see how the faded watermarks learn to die and to live.. ...yet another dream. SoUmY@
Some Memories are hard to hold on So I put them on words.