Moving
I think moving is not the few hours on a bleary Saturday morning
-the act of-
No, it is weeks:
Looking around at everything you love
And know you’re going
to have to say goodbye.
Like holding a lover for the last time
A little death
“Everything we know is going to end
One day
They say”
Maybe moves and doomed love affairs are
God’s gentle way of reminding us
Nothing is permanent.
right before you closed the door
and knew you wouldn’t be back?
Isn’t that the definition of living,
Isn’t that the definition of loving.
Occasionally I get this random song or little verse stuck in my mind… Last couple weeks it’s been Oasis’ Falling Down. As I look through its lyrics I feel like I’m reading the other side of this poem… Especially your part (Everything we know is going to end…) vs Oasis’ part (A dying scream makes no sound) which is about inferior human life, which is absolutely our most valuable and priceless experience…
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At the end, hopefully, I would have a ton of great memories that defined my life as the life I happily live over again… Full of moments that make it worth, painful to leave it behind, and brings simple smile to my face….
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Just like one who leaves a beloved home that was once full of laughter, joy, love.
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