It is rare,
And it is precious,
When something comes your way,
And takes you to the journey unforgettable,
Enthralling, satisfying and exhilarating,
The journey shall be held dear,
Then it leaves,
Abruptly, suddenly, cruelly,
Leaving you wanting more but unable,
Heartbroken, sad and full of sorrow,
You curl up into a ball,
Remember you do,
You remember the highs and lows,
The paints left by that journey in your life,
A part of the white canvas: now colourful,
Thankfulness falls upon you.
And thus comes closure,
Bitter yet sweet, sad yet happy,
Content, yet dissatisfied.
Beauty is fickle,
It is a butterfly dancing to spring,
It is little fireflies dancing to the enigma,
Transient, ephemeral, fleeting,
It goes away.
And that is it,
The journey is beautiful,
Not because it goes on forever,
But since it comes, and disappears,
Gives reasons to keep going on,
Leaves time to think.
And always lasts.
Constructive Criticism is Valued.