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Streaks

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Of restful days, where time wills away like a sundial,
Unstoppable, eons of ticks and turns …
This a day, like few in the past,
Where hand wraps around ink and the mind synchronizes with the present.

It has been days of nothingness;
Excruciating moments of doubts, unawares, and a constant flow,
Growing, learning, and expanding borders.
Today, like the few limited occasions where the hand meets ink,
where the mind rhymes to the tune of the ages…
The pen speaks of new beginnings, new experiences, and new joys.

This little jolt comes from an unknown space…
One yet to be harnessed, but full of promise.
One thing has stood out, man is no island …
We feel, we experience, and we express.
Limitless borders of expansion.

Outstretched, the arm gropes for a light,
Amidst the vast expanse of growth…
Scary face… Call code that washes my head in forever,
I know there is hope, in these waters,
Nonetheless, I can hold onto my hopes whilst drowning.

The freedom of the skies; that star evokes free will,
She roams; she flatters; she twinkles, She mesmerizes,
Bright like the lone sun that lights eons of light years,
Notwithstanding, none yet , understands the star’s language.
He, that thinks water flows as it wills, doubts why the sand bends to the same law.

But again. Nothing is promised,
Walk each day, or even roll like a tortoise,
build your own castles; no one really judges,
even your heart beguiles to the beat of a pretty face,
instances change, and as they say, tomorrow will be better.


Memoir #1; Summer 2022, BP.

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