Fleeting


It feels like the sun came out just to kiss your face, to kiss you, and ensconce you in its warmth and light, a warmth and light so sublime that it permeates to within you and radiates outward. One may go so far as to say that you are in commune, you are one, with the universe. Everything is beautiful and gay. This somewhat tacky description is what can be described as a perfect moment. We cherish them, remembering them for months to come. We are not used to them, so we endeavour to ‘freeze’ them, and in so doing, constantly search for and try to replicate them.

The search for that lovely afternoon spent drinking coffee and lost in a good book, that Saturday morning milkshake with a new and interesting friend, and so on. We end up holding on to the memories and consequently on to the things that we believe may help us revive those moments and memories. We often end up becoming that horrid disgusting thing called clingy; to a book, to remembering a cup of coffee made in a certain way, to that new and interesting friend, endlessly grasping at an ideal that is not quite replicable. And it is this consciousness in our search for perfection that perhaps ultimately prevents us from achieving that Nirvana.

It was lovely while it lasted. You had your laughter and your happiness, whether alone or in someone’s presence, and it came to an end. Heaven is not a place or just a memory. It is a drop in time that speckles your emotions and your conscience a little yet significantly. Happiness is transient. The things we love change and then disappear, after what seems to be too short a time. That is as good as it got and that is not a bad thing.


 

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