And This Too Shall Pass Poem Novels & Stories

I give up my vision which is ultraviolet at a research conference while poetry as morning rain blooms on the glass of storefronts. I give up my song which is going to prepare me to disappear for another six months. I give up my fingers which climb like vines to touch the skin in which I shall never be found.

I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. - Alfred Lord Tennyson Few days passed . My days were spent idling in the Mansion . It provide nothing to entertain . Clara was even busy with her works so I didn't bother her much . She make sure all my demand and request were fulfilled . It was her duty indeed . I plastered a sour smile on my face in assurance that I am fine but my soul felt Caged .

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." P.B Shelley

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

Whenever I think about you, i Ooh Resent in vain this long parting Ooh Let's bury the past and start a new From the flourishing branches To their withering every season Is the price of the circle of life Only the traveler's hair can be seen in the twilight As he let go of his ties Beneath the bridge Past life latecomers, with etchings on the palms From your Misty eyes a teardrop of sadness fall Woo If buddha says let it all go How could I just calmly accept it? Whenever I think about you, I Ooh Hate the love is so fleeting, yet unable to extricate myself from it Ooh Leaving only those initial feelings, and the ending of my imagination

Hoping to see her bright smile. Then, Joenabell suddenly tells him a poem. "The moment I met you Was the moment I feel you, Then a moment I fall. As if you are for me I am for you, Made the world seems blue. Never know that time, The time that passes by, Made me let you try That my love was enough To make you had enough. This love of mine Love says goodbye So, this heart of mine, Will have to cry Cry to the deepest shallow. The heart never knew that it would come to this,

His young voice slowly walked through the words that didn't have any meaning then- not like they did now. "It is not now as it hath been of yore;- turn wheresoe'er I may, by night or day- the things which I have seen, I now can see no more." The tiny flame was barely enough for him to make out the tarred words, but it was just enough to make the freezing nights a little warmer and the sour tasting days a sliver sweeter. The air was musty and tainted, but it was a common occurrence now. "The rainbow comes and goes, and lovely is the rose. The moon doth with delight look round her when the heavens are bare, waters on a starry night are beautiful and fair..."

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. - William Wordsworth

“Oh I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten, From hence your memory death cannot take, Although in me each part would be forgotten. Your name from hence immortal shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men’s eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read; And tongues to be your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead.

And when you kiss me, fill me with sunlight For I will be your shelter, your kingdom Illusions of fame and grandeur are nought All you need is serenity and love Riches and jewels your title has brought Are but dust to our passion as we move. What does the wind say to the little grebes? Take flight, spread your wings, I'll take you places. Little birds, I'll be the wind under you, To freedom go, I will follow you.