Indescribable

There's a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall
And the bells in the steeple too
And up in the nursery an absurd little bird
Is popping out to say "cuckoo"

A smörgåsbord of feelings, finally. A pastiche of moments, of images. Exams on the horizons, panic in the air, and creative juices think this is the best time to pump up. Inconsequentialities for the most part, that doesnt stop me from taking air.

And sorrow. Despair in someways, at a time that was almost momentary, and yet could have have been, should have been so much more (My Bad, really!).

Nullness. Dullness.

Legacies worth preserving, but the hills wont remember (though we will remember the hills.. somewhat).

These too shall pass, and all these moments will be lost in time.... like teardrops in the rain.

Adieu PGP10. We shall hunt again in Valhalla.