You found me
Where will we go from here
I swear I belong
This is where I belong
Where do we go from here?
Keep me
It was the second night of the usual vacation festivities — intoxicated bodies in swimwear, hair tousled by the breeze, the smell of salt clinging to our skin, beers clutched in one hand, the other clasping another’s, or the moment.
We were laughing, the homemade ice cream we just had for dinner hovering not too far from our minds; we were walking down the boardwalk, far from the everyone, walking down to the sands that kissed the ocean.
And then we looked up.
People try to imitate the heavens in the best way they can — and yet no matter how hard we try, we can only always show a speck of its beauty. Freckled specks of white caused by toothbrush bristles on black canvas; 3 hours of cameras perched on tripods unwilling to move; words, plenty of words — short words and long ones, and those that do not fit neatly in either category.
And yet there is no way to capture it all.
Seated on a hammock, head still reeling from the beer and the smell of cigarette smoke, I turned to my friend, reclining half-dazed, “Does this,” I said, vaguely waving towards the direction of the heavens, at us, “make you feel like someone’s behind it all, or are we just random beings?”
Lifting the cigarette from his lips, the vee of his fingers a perfect fit for the stick, we watched the smoke trail out from his mouth, the wind creating patterns. “I think we’re here because we were willed to.
Life, I guess, is finding out why.”
“Huh,” I offered. The smoke from his lips vanishing into the heavens this time, probably to inform the universe of his belief. As though the universe did not already know.
And so it is the same everywhere.
Welcome home.
Of perpetual finds 