How long do you've to set your eyes at the sunset before you are ready to let go? How long do you've to hold on to a thread of a decaying bond before you can forgive either of you for letting it breathe its last? How long before your regrets are overshadowed by your gratitude for all that you've been granted with? Perhaps holding on to the things is our way of rejecting the reality in its face. Perhaps we think if we can make it last long enough, it will get better... eventually. But does it?
There's a popular belief that one ought not to mourn the coming of the night because it's followed by the dawn. But if the dawn is bringing along a new day, why do we associate the hopes of reshaping the shapeless? Why are we so afraid to take a leap of faith and fly the gloom away. To break away from the shackles of man made hopes and expectations. To realize sometimes the wolf doesn't need a pack to survive, it needs courage. Maybe it's this false judgement on our part that doesn't allow us to move forward, to extend our wings. So we stay grounded, day after day, sunset after sunset, staring at the sky, wearing our hearts on sleeves, retorting back to unknown, to home long gone in the hopes of a last chance, a closure, realizing fully well that it won't come. That the day has passed by. The moments are gone. And no God can undo it.