Our life is like a book
Each phase a chapter
Our birth and death are
Prologue and epilogue.
But unlike the book
Life goes only one way
Any person can visit back
Only in memories and thoughts.
We can’t amend past
We can’t foresee future
A reason strong enough
To grasp only the present.
Despite this we continue
To loathe and live the past
Keep pondering for the future
And the beautiful present is lost.
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