I remember when I was sixteen years old,
Passion and glory mysteriously came to a child;
I remember the bright sky and the sweet breeze,
It seemed all the greatness I could achieve with ease.
I remember when I was eighteen years old,
A dream was looming and came to unfold;
I remember when I was about to fly,
Pressure and cowardliness prevented me from a try.
When a boy was excited and felt ready,
Suddenly wind veered and made the world dirty;
After years and years suffering with or without consciousness,
The road ahead became blur and clueless.
One day my inner self finally took the control,
But my outer self was still missing the soul;
Searching for truth and meaning which I could not believe,
Although the reason told me it didn’t thieve.
When I was about double the age when I had passion,
I found myself puzzled by the fashion;
Yet I realized life has no place for regret,
Whatever you can or cannot forget.
I look up and find nothing in my hand,
Nothing but the time flowing like the sand;
I do not need anything to make me thrive,
As long as I have regained the passion which had been my drive.
A child’s wound could be covered but never be healed,
A child’s dream could be hibernating but never be killed;
Now I have brought back the passion of a sixteen-year-old boy,
Wherever it leads me, I will follow my heart with power and joy.
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