Ghost of the Dawn

I don't wanna go and waste my time fighting in a losing battle. I know that the language of feelings can never be interpreted or translated, so why am I trying  so hard to put into words?  it's just so overwhelming, so beautiful that I find myself tongue-tied. I'll simply go, close my eyes and hold on to it for as long as possible. I'll store it somewhere in my heart where what it remains, a mere memory. A memory that is a pale version of a colorful drawing, but at least it will be easier for me to get a grip on it. Not the opposite.

Memories....they are my greatest pleasures, my greatest sufferings. Sometimes, I find my legs running as fast as my energy allows, escaping the pain of a memory that its wound has yet to heal. Sometimes, they pass before my eyes like flashes of light. But a bullet can be fast as well. Sometimes, I'm the one who chases them, with the wish of having the ability of turning be the hands of time in my heart.

One day, I'll be a memory too.

I'll sure be remembered for a while. But for how long?  A year, two? Will my memory, the only remaining part of me, be lost in the mists of time? Will i be like the moon in the dawn? So radiate and beautiful in its night hours and then the sun shines and it becomes a mere ghost of what it once was. Will I be a ghost? Or worse, will I be forgotten?