In the beginning there were times when we couldn't but wait. There were multiple reasons why we couldn't try but we succeeded at last. It is in this sweet freedom, this inexplicable joy that overflows our hearts in powerful rhythms pulsating in throbbing beats to the drumming of our soul's music that we now bask like crocodiles upon the river bank on a more favourable day.
We are without ingratitude at the prospects of a divine, even somewhat sublime future but we hold on to our nostalgic pessimistic flare keeping in memory the days of our future past. For we are well aware that even for us this seems too good to be the reality that we know. To I and others reality had become in its own a searing vivid image of pain after pain merging as if in praise into an endless string of horrific days, like a string of Jewels upon my mother's neck. I on my part shall make no promises whatsoever, despite the fact that it seems that a new dawn is upon us with its lighting magnitude threatening to overwhelm the dark past of the vanishing morn.
We cannot say with our tongues that we had a home. We cannot say we had a family, nor love to speak of. For us there was none of that profound delight, that rhythmic joyfulness, that exhilarating pleasure with bounds unknown visible amongst children.
Alas I am a foe , one unto myself for being without the power, strength nor wisdom to rid myself of this memories.
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