#167: A life not lived
There are fickle visions of a life in my mind. It might be a past life or a future one; I can't tell. They could just be memories. Memories I can't completely remember. Maybe memories of a life I only dreamed of long ago. A life I haven't yet lived. And they may be premonitions of a coming life. A life I'm destined to live someday. Or just a life I can only dream of living. A life I can never afford thinking about. I can't be sure what kind of life it is. I can't even describe it. All I know about these visions is that they leave my heart with some kind of warmth, and my mind with some content. It's all momentary, I know. But they worth to be noticed and thought of. I couldn't figure what is this that I have. It fills me with the hope of a much happier tomorrow. And sometimes with regret that I wouldn't be able to relive such a life, and with the worry that maybe this life would never be lived, by me. There's another life inside of me. And till ...