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Letting go…

It is an art I think, one which I am sorely in need off, as I have no clue to how to let the sand slip though my fingers and not feel the rip. I wish I could find contentment in just wetting my feet in the little waves by the sea and not feel the chilly loss, when they recede away. I wish happiness as such was not so depended on others and it were not as fleeting as the cold November wind which fans the embers of a once raging fire but the warmth of which always fails to reach the desolate corners of my heart.

May it be a piece of article I held close like a watch or a friend or someone very dear, a time will come, when they will succumb to inevitable, just like everything else and move away ….

Now, if only I could learn that elusive art…

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