i. Midnight —
clambering on a bus;
speedy entrances to nighttime vehicles,
people.
Dozens: asleep, dreaming,
clutching a phone, or a bag, or an umbrella,
or a memory.
ii. Dawn —
a sudden jolt.
Arms stretched, waters drank, bags repacked,
fist bumps exchanged, dialogues made:
“Are you ready?” “Let’s go.”
Another day.
iii. Morning —
Heat, everywhere;
filling you up, no crevice unnoticed;
kissing legs, kissing skin, kissing lips,
a temptation to give up.
A remembrance of the “Let’s go.”
A look up,
a look back,
a look beyond,
a witnessing of the universe.
“One more step.” you say, and so you do.
iv. Afternoon —
Heat, worse this time;
parched throats, burned scalps, shaking hands,
burning skin;
“Almost there, almost there.”
Quiet urges.
Firm grasps on shoulders,
“Just a bit more.”
An attempt to cry where no tears are shed;
a series of questions:
of why, of am I crazy, of shouldn’t I be doing
anything else
but this?
v. Afternoon, p.2 —
A few more strides,
step, after step, after step, after step,
until there remains no more of them to be made
And then:
an answer.
So this is why.
Because despite the pain,
and bruises,
and wounds of varying lengths
that would imprint the skin in varying degrees,
and heat,
and wind and wrong timings,
(only wrong, never bad)
weird stomachs,
wardrobe malfunctions,
lack of preparation —
this is life.
vi. Evening —
Engine failures in the middle of the sea;
laughter, still.
No perfect plans have ever been memorable;
the things you most cherish
most remember,
are those you thought
in the moment
were the worst.
v. Night —
Nursing wounds,
replying to messages,
updating loved ones.
Looking down;
at battle scars,
at sunburnt skin,
at aching legs,
Looking back;
at stories shared,
at photos taken,
at friends made,
Looking up;
at the stars,
understanding the truth:
this,
is what we live for.
(A/N: Photos to be uploaded soon.)
Of perpetual finds 