What is this tremor
I feel inside me,
An intuition of the time
To shine from within,
Brand new life I see
Through the wisdom
Of my ancient spirit…
The young heart knows not much,
It follows the attention.
It cannot distinguish good from bad.
It just follows the path of impulses,
The young heart persevere,
It persevere even if it hurts,
It can’t let go, it can’t let it flow.
The young heart is pure and naive,
And it always fall for the trickster.
It is the irony of love
As it takes you down before it takes you high.
Young heart learns soon,
Young heart understands soon,
That most of the times you have to choose to love what is good for you…
They come like a cool breeze out of nowhere,
They feel like you have been waiting for them.
They make you forget even yourself,
That’s how their magic actually works.
Just when you get little too comfortable,
They will show you what they are really made of.
When you can’t stop worshipping the trickster,
They leave you with nothing but plain dejection.
They are playing and playing till they get bored,
They are taking and taking till you have no more.
They will hurt you and ask you that why you cry,
They will ignore even if you are dying.
They are nothing but something just like spirit,
They will only mess you up because they are toxic…
The body so fragile, it breaks in a moment,
The heart so brittle, it shatters by few words ,
The life is capricious, it ends without a notice,
Yet you are sound and safe at this point,
Yet you mend your heart everytime it breaks,
Yet you live this moment with much hopes for next second.
The crux of now is just so simple,
That you are a miracle of the creation,
That you are miracle, don’t you ever forget…