Fleeting Times

In the haze of tomorrow’s longing, I search for the ghosts of moments gone. The laughter, the tears, the whispers, the sighs, All echoes of a past that whispers goodbye. Why didn't I hold each instant which was like a flame? Why didn't I cherish every whisper, every name? I was blinded by the promise of tomorrow's light, And neglected the beauty of the fleeting night. My greatest regret, a heart that believed, In a future that stole the present from me. I traded the beauty of the here and now, For a promise of what could be, a future somehow. But life, it seems, is a collection of last times, A series of goodbyes. And I'm left to ponder, on the what-ifs and the maybes, A heart that's heavy, with the weight of forgotten days. So let this be my lesson, my heart's lament, To cherish every moment, to make each one a monument. To hold each instant close, like a precious, shining thing, And never let the future steal the beauty of the present's wings.

"Why didn't I learn to treat everything as it was the last time? My greatest regret is believing too much in the future."

There's just too much to say on this topic but let's not, okay?