The mirror of time reflected to me the thorns of the summer of 2014. The moment when the thorn dug deep into the skin choking the heart to weep in sorrow was at its pinnacle. The silence that haunts the ears and the words that pierced through the soul. Memory is kind to give me the story again as it celebrates its year old wound and scar. But the man of today saw it as a fitting scene to happen as the ride between the couple gets more intense. Never a day did this beautiful melancholic relic pass through my thoughts with a silent stride. I bear the impact of the apple falling from the branches. My mind brought me to the spectre of the war where I lay wounded after the dagger had struck me to the bone. The music had its abrupt stop when I was listening to the melody. The quick pause caused my ear to resonate in dismay, longing still for the song to play. As if the canvas where I paint tore itself leaving my masterpiece to a halt. My world shrank into
History shall continue to unfold, and my history shall end when I no longer unfold.