I could not retain the memory,
could not but let it go.
To toil was a suffering,
to strive too hard to know.
To stumble (once) against the wall,
to stand and try again.
Like one piece of the puzzle, lost,
to find, but who knows when.
It may seem like just a moment,
a lifetime it has been.
To lose, and yet, to overcome
like the prism we have seen.
The colour after plainest light,
as rainbow brings the sun.
Standing tall after the fall
yet not the only one.
These moments (lost) for once, for good
we cherish now and then.
Those moments far less than the whole,
we live to rise again.
sensualism 