I often feel it is the fallacy of human nature to end up sometimes in between situations, in between places, in between people and relationships and sometimes in between the times we wish we didn't lose. The beauty I feel though is often finding which way to go when you are making that transition, and sometimes in knowing that you do not get to make that choice. It is in conversations with so many that I have learned about these transitions in human nature, it is slow and unexpected. We are biased towards choosing , we are more biased towards making some choices our own. For now I wrote to that in between feeling, person or reason we have, in shared destiny let me dwell for a bit
In Between
We are often written as in story books, we are travelling places and sometimes we are in between,
We are part of the pages that you haven't read, the places in your mind that you have not yet seen
In between the looking glass; I find glances by the coffee table that I share,
In between warm, fires by the chimneys, wrapped in a blanket and among the things that I care.
We are often found like travelers, packed away in our mind and our heart,
We are waiting for endings , because we fell in love with the new, we fell for the "start"
We are driven by the very few, we are driven far, we are driven to places unknown,
And yet we seem to live in between the memories, that are never gone.
A new day must start with the old, the summaries must come from those who love to unlearn,
Who have erased but themselves in bit and pieces, who have unsolved the puzzle & spent the winnings they had earned
It is to the brave ones I write, those who know themselves and keep discovering still,
Who are lying in between the places and phases, and yet who are alive in between their own free will
The lengthy chatter of the night we talk, and I let my dream come from time to time,
Even if I fail to recollect them all, what I bring to you is still the best of me and always mine
In between places, is where you will find me, I have walked many a miles for just the same,
For now I get to keep my day, so that you can keep your night as our stories change.
In Between
We are often written as in story books, we are travelling places and sometimes we are in between,
We are part of the pages that you haven't read, the places in your mind that you have not yet seen
In between the looking glass; I find glances by the coffee table that I share,
In between warm, fires by the chimneys, wrapped in a blanket and among the things that I care.
We are often found like travelers, packed away in our mind and our heart,
We are waiting for endings , because we fell in love with the new, we fell for the "start"
We are driven by the very few, we are driven far, we are driven to places unknown,
And yet we seem to live in between the memories, that are never gone.
A new day must start with the old, the summaries must come from those who love to unlearn,
Who have erased but themselves in bit and pieces, who have unsolved the puzzle & spent the winnings they had earned
It is to the brave ones I write, those who know themselves and keep discovering still,
Who are lying in between the places and phases, and yet who are alive in between their own free will
The lengthy chatter of the night we talk, and I let my dream come from time to time,
Even if I fail to recollect them all, what I bring to you is still the best of me and always mine
In between places, is where you will find me, I have walked many a miles for just the same,
For now I get to keep my day, so that you can keep your night as our stories change.
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