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𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑆𝑢𝑏𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑒 ❤️🙏
𝑳𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒔 🎶🎶
I don’t regret, I don’t call,
I don’t chase what’s bound to fall.
Everything drifts, thin and slow,
Like white smoke I used to know.
Golden days are turning cold,
Youth dissolves, no hand to hold.
I won’t beg the flame to stay,
What was bright has burned away.
Heart, be calm, don’t fight the chill,
Let it pass, let it be still.
Birchwood roads, barefoot dreams,
Fade into forgotten scenes.
I don’t regret, I don’t return,
Every fire is meant to burn.
What once bloomed must fade and fall,
Nothing here is built to last at all.
I don’t regret, I let it go,
Like white smoke, like melting snow.
Bless the rise and bless the end,
Every loss we couldn’t mend.
Restless soul, you wander less,
Eyes no longer over-pressed.
Desires thin, they lose their flame,
Every wish dissolves to name.
Life feels light, like half a dream,
Nothing’s ever what it seems.
Spring once roared inside my chest,
Now it sleeps, it comes to rest.
Was it real or just a sign,
A borrowed spark, a borrowed time?
Morning sound, a fading hue,
Pink sky breaking into blue.
I don’t regret, I don’t return,
Every fire is meant to burn.
What once bloomed must fade and fall,
Nothing here is built to last at all.
I don’t regret, I let it go,
Like white smoke, like melting snow.
Bless the rise and bless the end,
Every loss we couldn’t mend.
Everything must fade…
Everything must fall…
Everything we love…
Was never ours at all…
I don’t regret, I don’t cry,
Leaves turn copper, seasons die.
What arrived was meant to leave,
Nothing stays for us to keep.
I don’t regret, I stand alone,
Time has claimed what time has grown.
Blessed be what came to be,
Blessed be its memory.
White smoke
Cold air
Nothing left
Nowhere there
The idea#
Renunciation without bitterness: “I don’t regret, I don’t call… Like white smoke I used to know.” Golden days cold, youth dissolved, birchwood roads and barefoot dreams fading; the heart is told to stop fighting the chill. Bless the rise and bless the end; nothing built to last; “Everything we love / Was never ours at all.”
Uplifting driving trance under such letting-go is paradoxical and right—the body still lifts while the will releases claim. Pink sky into blue, copper leaves, white smoke and cold air: a late-summer philosophy set to vertical motion. Not despair’s theater; a calm inventory of impermanence.