Day 62: The Impossible Love

In the last couple of days, though there was much to write about, my wandering soul wanted a break from things. From the realities we face everyday, from the things we dream about and some that have always been great. In the last couple of days, I have been thinking about what we called the impossible love, our challenges to our own selves. Our preface to a good book, our prelude to a song, and that little bit of hope that lies in impossibility, in knowing we are all looking for places to belong. They will tell me one day that writing must come easy to me, to be able to write and to set your mind free. I often write the description without rhyme and though unintentional it seems to read like one, as I find hope for those many who have had their impossible love, and here's winning the fight everyday

The Impossible Love
We are what we were yesterday, no questions asked no expectations for the day,
We didn't change , we didn't grow up, we just defined our friendship in someway

We didn't fall, we didn't get up, we didn't relive the mystery,

We just found a reason ,and a time and place and often something that we wanted to be 

We say we love the impossible things, the ones that are often hard to get

That are meant to be free, that are meant to be secret and yet this is what we look for instead

I row my little sail boat home, the oars get lost in the tides of time,

And in whatever memory that you keep as yours, and whatever I can salvage as mine

There are those who believe in destiny, the journey from point A to B,

And everything that lies in between, is what we get to choose, the things we want to be.

We fulfill our promises to only ourselves, the feel good factors of the day we live,

Are among the many times we had a chance to get, and we decided to rather give

Among treasure maps of the heart, among chests that are found in depths of time,

I hold on to the anchored ship, the one that I claim is stationary and yet mine.

We will often sing to memories, to changes I often forget, the ones that mend themselves,

They are often read and reread in times, they are unheard of being stacked in shelves

Oh weary mind , my fellow traveler, my reader, my company in finding the impossible love someday,

When all maps seems to be drawn without direction, find solace in the little fights you win, keep writing, keep reading anyways