A Time Lived ?

There was a time when i believed that i lived.Every breath i took was scented, and every move i made was ochrestated. The dance of life never ending and the song of faith so true. The spring was spring with the winter two seasons away. It would never come, the winter. The cold harsh winds were not for me, and the blankets were destined to their dooms in their closets.

Life has its ways. And the winter will come. The harsh wind will freeze and make the heart so cold that no feelings will dare to fight back. So insesitive that the break will be a tickle. A joke of a jester never to be taken seriously, even by the the most feared of the kings.

Where did i go wrong. Or was i right as always. Had my ego engulfed me in such a blanket of darkness that so blinded me and kept me away from the realities of the frost. Did i lose my veins in vain or madness. Was my defeat a legend to be fortold for generations to come, to make my shame eternal.

As a kid i was confortable, without the knowledge of the ways of the cruel heart. The love for everything so genuine feels so childish. But, maybe, that was the only true love that i may have experienced, that of which will take a lifetime to forget. That, which will make me regret to the end of this life.

The spring shall come like the winter once froze. And the astronomical existence will continue without remorse of the loss of a single soul.

Seasons. Happiness. Remorse. Will stay.

I am just human, with a dream of divinity. Something, only the gods and angels seem to deserve. We are entitled only shame of our actions and the regret of our passions. As we morbidly continue our meaningless lives of achievement, only to be neutralised by our deaths.

Some of us will make it to the books, and some will stay obscure, with a new born baptised with a name so copied.

All rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix. While they still burn, will a rebirth be so rejoiced. The pain never ending and the flames so engulfing.

Shall i survive or shall i give up as a patriot and call it romantic. Shall i stay and and watch myself burn or be reborn to eternise my rebellion.

Is it the time i lived, or a time i lived to die.