Of Broken Mirrors, Of Broken Dreams: The Unfolding Reflection. A Creative Piece On The Illusion of Aging, Passion, and Time.

time

“Bring me back to my youth”– you hope.

In youth, you grow in your belief.

And as you are, you are raised to chase the twinkle in your eyes.

To surpass all boundaries, as you are encouraged to do the impossible.

You are spoon-fed and grown –grown out of your initial wants.

You begin to chase other things, and other people– Sometimes at the same time.

You get lost in the Charade– the Smoke and Mirrors— the Grand Illusion.

You chase, and chase, and are urged to chase.

Now, the continuously regurgatative commodity of existence has you.

And now, scrambling towards the finish — only to find yourself through another left turn — you confront your internal debate — a cackle, a roar, a mindless exacerbation of importance.

When life finds you now — looking back at you through the mirage of society — Do you come to believe the miserable consumption of time that has elapsed you in your tracks?

“Bring me back to my youth”— you hope.

Hope you!“bring me back to my youth”

The broken dream has broken you,

the broken dream has,

the broken dream is.

With despondence

Littermature.


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