Summer has arrived in a blink of an eye into our little world. The weeds are here to stay, the mosquitoes have moved in and the woods has crept in.
Nature has this incredible, wild way of swelling up, growing up, moving in, mounting, expanding, spreading and swallowing up everything its green mouth touches it.
Fleeting too it is under the wrath of time. Time is the rat that cuts off the thread of lire in this universe. There is nothing in this world which the all-devouring time will spare. And if one day the garden is dressed up in all its glories, the following it has already started to die away...
And thus, the white flower of the privets which only at the beginning of the week were in all their glories have already withered by the end of the week.
And so it has been with the irises of Monday.
The beauty of a moment is that it's fleeting. By its very nature, it slips through our fingers, making it that much more precious.
We are being swallowed by the serpent of time...
No one can stop the flow of time. But a moment captured in the frame of the heart will never disappear. That will be shown at the bottom of our hearts, and will always give off a great feeling. Sweet and bitter.