The epitome of intense mixture of diverse feelings, I mean, the graveyard more than just a place of burial, is where something out of body dwells.
I may try to write it down, but can I bring to you the tale of an unexpected demise of a formless love now buried, a sudden accident like a nightmare coming true, incomplete promises, shipwreck of silent wishes teaching you to surrender.
Is that possible to explain to you the melancholy from an evening of pinching sun when you stop by and say hello to someone whose physical existence is almost a distant dream, while you struggle and still hold on to their illusionary image, yet the evergreen dusty memories.
You don't forget, yes, we never forget. Remembrance is synonymous to human life on earth. We are born to meditate on remembrance, never meant to forget.
The nature of existence is death, the certain demise ; if so, why do we never talk about it? Why don't we talk about graveyards full of beholding our unfulfilled promises! Why don't we talk about mournful stories that the earth sacredly beholds underneath.
Of many parts of us, some parts, the earth beholds. Why don't we talk about the abandoned part! Do we forget ; ah a distant possibility. If so, can I then say, we all are living tombs with memories enclosed in our hearts. Heart is a living graveyard, we keep burying until we are buried.
But, I must tell you this ; remembrance is like a dried flower still retaining it's fragrance between the pages of your favorite book, and so is the feeling of passing by a graveyard ; warmth from nostalgic remembrance.