For all the time that has passed us by, we never spare a moment to look at the present. Instead, we wait for each passing second to become past, and then we reminiscent it as a only a memory lost from the present. Why we never look upon the days we live in while with folly we rather regret the histories, is nothing but a mystery.
Yet the future is where to key lies at. If only we could believe in the future as much as we believe in the past. If only things to come were as simple and not complex as the things that have come and gone. If only.
The day has come, while the night is reaching its dawn as soon as it dusks. The beginning, or the end? The honesty, or the face to pretend? Let live choose the path for me.
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