i picked forever flowers
those papery flowers
that do not fade
with the hopes that i could
write an everlasting poem
on the insides of the petals
but the wind blew these flowers
far away
and with it the poem that i intended
to write for you
i picked forever flowers
they tend to look shriveled
and they are noisy when you walk past them
but they remind me of
a sunset that struggles to fade away
into the blue-night
with all its stars
but they remind me of
a cricket that fiddles his song
in search of a mate
i picked forever flowers
hoping that for a moment
i could find the right words
to describe the stars
on your face

Postscriptum, or Nothing lasts forever

It is funny how the days tend to bleed into each other as soon as you get busy. I am sure I have written those exact words somewhere. I officially have a draft of my PhD done, and in the moment, I am too tired to appreciate the gravity of the situation. Instead, I sat down and wrote a poem.

I keep on lying to myself, saying things like, it will get better, and less busy, but then weeks like this week come along kicking me in the behind and showing me who is boss. I have made a promise to myself to never overwork, to always stay clear of the scary burnout, and I am walking on dangerous grounds. My body is protesting in ways I have never actually thought possible.

Maybe I should take it a bit slower.

All of the writings and poems are my own, albeit for and inspired by my @urban.scout. The photograph is also my own, taken with my Nikon D300.

Forever Flowers

Postscriptum, or Nothing lasts forever