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i used to care a lot about things i couldn't change.

 

i used to help people and pitch in to make a difference.

 

i used to try to be the golden gate bridge.

 

now, i'm just the city.

Hey cold winter day

Three sunflowers to keep me warm

Burning hot warming colours

In the end of all this yellow and green

........................One...........................

 

Torbakhopper enjoy Bert

PRESS PLAY

  

back in the perfect light of day,

where memories glow

and the things you know

 

can seem golden

in a particular sort of way.

 

such ideals and naive,

tilting forward like a shore-bound wave --

 

OH! how much i believed in you that day.

  

if you were here

i could deceive you

and if you were here

you would believe

but would you suspect

my emotion wandering, yeah

do not want a part of this anymore

 

The rain water drips

through a crack in the ceiling

and i'll have to spend

my time on repair

But just like the rain

i'll be always falling, yeah

only to rise and fall again

 

if you were here

i could deceive you

and if you were here

you would believe

but would you suspect

my emotion wandering, yeah

 

do not want a part of this anymore

it is a rare sight to see the distant light on this island's northern shore. only now, nearing the solstice, does the sun fall so far into the island at dusk.

you seem to think i

i can turn my memories off.

 

you want to believe

the past is not viscerally present,

 

in everything we do.

 

recurrence is life itself!

seeing something twice, three times,

 

each time anew.

 

you don't really believe

a tree remembers being a seed . . .

 

that's too sentimental,

even for me

 

at the height of culture is the female egg bearer. even though this knowledge is understood without dispute, our society is based on distraction from this principle. we are more interested in almost anything. i have never understood our inability to foresee the future. but i have always believed the reason we, as a culture, couldn't understand our future was because we were so absent from our present and so determined to lie to ourselves about our collective past

if i could write the same love letter,

 

just turn it into a melody,

 

we could all hold it up like a memory

 

and sing

Saved by the Deleteme group and is in "The Safe"

 

what if i go up?

how many steps to heaven?

and if i descend?

 

Haiku by torbakhopper. Thnx

  

Spanish/español

 

¿Qué pasa si sube?

¿Cuántos pasos al cielo?

¿y si descienden i?

  

French/Français

 

Et si je monte?

Combien de pas vers le ciel?

et si je descends?

"what are the chances you are reading this anyway?

time is one of those things which passes forever.

you can't just reach into time like a skyscraper.

you can only reach back like its shadow at dusk."

  

in time, all things fall apart.

 

with enough time,

destiny loses meaning.

 

over time,

everything we love disappears into things we only remember.

 

after a time,

we are no more.

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