Lost Manuscript

Life is a lost manuscript
though write or re write
you wont regain the actual
beauty, fervour, or rhythm
of the lost one

meanings evasive
not accurate,
deviant, or the misdemeanour
of sights sounds and feelings
though occur and recur
most bewitchingly
only in your memory
not caught, as if in a dream,
lost in translation
into words

Chaotic, fervently you recreate
this time something else
which again is sacrament

Like a god who created
something terribly wrong
you woe and rant

Oh life!
yet mischievous
in its ardent discoveries!

by Daisy Pereira

Comments (2)

Life becomes a lost manuscript only when we forget the NOW and rue in the memory of the past. Tolle calls it 'carrying the pain body' - a masochistic mistake we all indulge in. You have caught that predicament well in this poem. Kudos.
Life is a lost manuscript... you wont regain the actual beauty, fervour, or rhythm of the lost one. Very good. The poem is full of a wonderful commentary replete with expressions where the joys once reaped have been swept away through the passage of time. Thanks.