Like whispering leaves
in the evening breeze
we lean on each others' shoulders.
We own and yet disown
We comfort and yet not indulge
There is a degree of helplessness to us
A limited degree of freedom
There is nothing we can do about it
Except pushing it behind ourselves
And cutting through all the years.
That is how nostalgia is built
Something that is behind us now.
At times, it is cold and heavy
like a necklace of stones
Hanging heavy around our necks
And pulling us to the ground.
But we go on with that burden
to climb new heights.
Like a stone being rolled uphill
Heavily and helplessly.