moving

maybe it is time to move on. she bade her goodbye to him in words wrapped with equivocal mystery. it was hopeful in a sort of painful way. it was presence given, after almost two long weeks of unsure inexistence, and presence taken, an affront to the mysteries of a seeming break-up, or a regretted rejection of what would be. he felt a great loss, why must it be that dropping one thing for freedom should carry dropping everything. what it means to drop everything to maintain that free spirit again? it was for a thorough baptism of minds, bodies and spirits, a sort of flagellation to attain some sort of nirvana or buddhahood?


he wanted so much to retain this one phase to remain and transcend the boundaries of his leaving. she dropped it, dumped it sooner than expected saying in heartfelt riddles, a harbinger of sorry and pain, the time can be to change anything to grow in the world but i believe something in myself, it means "heart" will never change me to forget you.. goodbye.


painful as it is, it never closed its doors to hope. hopeful it could be, the dire news heaved numerous sighs, a deep weary void in the chest, a loss of a visionary spirit, a curbing of the self.

maybe he should move on.

or hope still until he settles everything until mid of next and fly himself to her or what awaits him there.