Forever feels strange. There’s always this illusion of forever, of everything being timeless, having no expiry date. But there can’t be a forever. Immortal love? Hmm. As we grow older, it seems this concept of forever changes. You realize time is more vague. People promise “forever” when they’re young.
And then there is a forever that we re-defined. You and I, we always re-label and re-write. Admitted that there is no forever. Admitted that everything slowly changes and withers away. But we were left with multiple forevers. There’s a momentary forever. What stays is bigger. And perhaps the world is not ready for our definition.
This is Clementine’s poem, ‘Mouthful of Forevers.’ I am reposting it here.