is precious and pure. Life returns to me by way of image. My cares lie not within time, but in the stark reveries past love has provoked. I cherish those days.
I remember how that was a time
when innocence caused love. When one single blink would cause days to fly past, each leaving its own image in my mind. When my only light came from the people in my life.
It was only when I learned to love
that I could understand. Time is the only teacher, and life truly exists in the days we chose to fill with an image conceived through our own light.
I cannot fathom a life
where there is an absence of light. Illumination causes a pause in time, for what other moment is there for love? You cannot find an emotion so pure in days, but in the captured moment of an image.
Nostalgia fills me up from those days
as I stare at that lamppost, holding an image of my late father. I never truly understood the love he had for me, but the radiance of his light shined down and brightened my life. What I would give to get back that time.
The sun rises as I attempt to image
my future, to hint on the days ahead. My face is bathed in sunlight, the warmth is the beginning of my life. I know now not to concern with time, for nothing else matters when I have love.
I have time because of those days,
I have love because of that image, I have life because of the light.