Time through prism.

The past is always unambiguous because it is more comprehended, we can group it as a whole. We visit it often mould it according to our needs, longing, vision, romance and panorama. It changes with each breath, with each scenery through which we are remembering it.

Through a journey, peeping through the window to the sunset it seems beautiful, clear, maddening, romantic. The same memory at other time in rain falls as stones, hard and hurting, painful and heavy so much so that we loose breathe. The same memory clear as glass yet split in colors through the prism of our persepective. True to itself individually, yet part of a whole whose pattern we can clearly see.

The present, ironically is maddeningly chaotic and unclear keeps eluding us. It is right before our eyes yet we fail to the see the entirety of it. It almost always leaves us hope. A little bleak break hoping that all of this is not real, it will change. It is in present, that when we are going through the happiest of memories that a sudden thought of it going away, fading, creates a halo of uncertainity and the moment is lost. That perfect moment is lost , engulfed by fear , swallowed by loss, Only to be revived again in memories.

Memories of past.