When A Day Passes By

Another sun it set, and a new day would likely to start. My tea was getting cold, while my morning is getting high. I wonder how much time already passed, and the path I walk on today – perhaps I never imagined it before, or perhaps I kept it secret even to my self, just to let surprise when I find it in time – my path.

When a day passes by, I ask my self, did I feel sorry? – but perhaps the answer is too obvious; sorry is only for they who walk behind a shadow, and become a silhouette of nothingness.

Holding on

When a day passes by, I might find I let my body in hunger, and let my soul fulfilled. I might see my self missed one or two common senses, and move ahead where most would hide behind safety net.

When a day passes by, my body dismissed it might to hold up its own weight little by little, as it gets closer and closer to become the world itself.

When a day passes by, and until there no day passes by again.


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