But my Love, the world is a place we do not own
And time is nothing but a fleeting constant
A thief that stands when we are enjoying.
A tease that awaits when we are suffering.
Therefore, every experience is a gift,
all of which are rare
all of which are borrowed.
Like the clouds which never displayed the same shape at the same time,
Or the waves which were never too low nor too high for the consuming sea,
I know, as sure as you will be another's, like the ones who had passed before me.
I cannot hold on to you.
Like the trees which were never with the same bunch of leaves,
Like how the world turns and sheds for every one and every thing
Replacing every one and every thing as it turns.
This will be the inescapable moment.
The inevitable day of reckoning
and all will be over.
We will be left with the gift of memories.
The incomparable happiness, rare and borrowed.
Built from the teasing and fleeting thief, time.
We are bound to crash and burn together.
Until our paths cross again, my heart shall sit here waiting for you.
Waiting for another beautiful accident to happen.