about the pain

... I pay for each day of my life. With money. And much effort. You too are doing it. Do you ever stop to think about? I don't intend to waste the smile... Even flowers I hardly dare to pick, because I know their bloom is equally unique - for both the Rose and the Forget me Not...
My life's a dimming flame. A tear. There's no tunnel. There is no light. Trust me! Only pain. About the Missed... the Unsaid... the Unfinished...
I wish to write about the Pain. The physical pain and the agony of the Spirit. I want to talk about the kiss... The one that brings forth the preordained, the granting of one's self... And the other one, where slumber the drudges of the day. The day without sufferance - for self nor for anyone else.
I pay each and every instant of my life. Coffee. Sandwich. Some aspirin. Newspaper. I hand a bill. Handed thousands of times by thousands of persons. I get my change. And I keep going on.
Life's chores do weigh in. So do the happy instants. But I do make the effort and smile. Sometimes through tears. 

But always with the chin up and looking ahead.
I pay for each moment of my life. You too, but you don't think of it. Perhaps you think yourself impervious to pain. That death is somewhere far away, in a very distant future.
But my life's a dwindling flame and I know the price of smithereens of goodness.
Therefore I write about the pain. The shared one. The lonely one. The indeserved and the sinful one... the person who re-evaluates his entire life owing to that pain.
I write about the words "I love" because they chart the grandest feeling. Regardless of how, the loving one soars above the indifferent one, the cold one, the soulless one.
I too want... I love the flowers, the sun, the night, the sea... people... The rightful and the sinful, the ones who have suffered and the ones who have wounded. People each with a name and unique destiny.
I want to be good. And to make someone good. To love until my last earthly breath... And to leave love... after me...