Time has many unpredictable ways to return times of past refreshed and renewed.
Possible and impossible shades of old fade at the daytime and thicken at dark.
Waterlike epochs merge into the vessels of days, weeks, months.
Indifference turns into gratitude. Gratitude oozes bliss. Bliss blooms with love. Love decays to bleed. And then it bleeds, nourishing the soil of wisdom, feeding trees of cognition, impregnating seeds of devotion.
Time raises its own garden, where sun is the spirit of life, where life is just the chain of memories, where memories are the tastes of wines. And the wines are the blood of emotions.

05/01/16