Like everyone, I ponder a lot about life. What is it? What is its nature? Is it a bird or a tree? Is it a river or a breeze?
Is life what we do? Or what do we think? Is it what we speak? Is it the dreams we have while asleep?
I listen tunes and get carried away. I feel so overwhelmed that how could a composer, a lyricist, a singer, a flock of musicians, a set of instruments, and a stroke of technology come together years ago to throb hearts in times to come? But I see folks around me oblivious to this. I feel ridiculed. I feel unheard. Then what is life? My overwhelming or their oblivion? I don’t know.
It’s so exhausting. To wake up every day and believe today might just be better than days gone by. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s way worse. So is life a continuous attempt to hope for a better tomorrow or a regret of another day lost?
The chaos is less chaotic than its anticipation. The anticipation of joy is more joyous than its arrival. And the midst of this dwindling paradox, we see months, years, and loved ones fading away like morning stars. Now here. Now gone. Is it Chaos? Is it Joy? Is it anticipation? Is it a dwindling paradox?
Like everyone, I ponder a lot about life. Is it a bird or a tree? Is it a river or a breeze?
What is it?
~Papermate~
Papermate is just another face from the maddening crowd.
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