The seasons pass without mourning.. stealing away such critical
moments, stolen glances, reverence in days that battled to stand apart
from the rest. It discards the wilted, tempting eyes to shift past the
barren opportunities of days forgotten to the still unknown simplicities
of tomorrow. The allure of each new seasons mystery playing a leading
role in the structure of our dreams. Vexed by a lack of ability to alter
such harsh moments collected in the archives of our wrongdoings, we
press toward a redefining moment, a future of scripted words, a
perfected vengeance... plays better left to gods and screenwriters..
those with the ability to create paradise in existence. Are the smiles
worth relinquishing to rid the scars from our minds? Is it fear that
prevents us from embracing every piece of the puzzle? Silence allowing
us to live through each season as a recreated being- a seasonal flower- a
specimen untainted by the wind, the drought, the downpour? We remain
blind to the totality of our lives and lay fixed in a collection of
remembrances scattered mishappen through the years...
