I can’t stop growing.
Even if this life is not meant for some endeavors of the heart,
I cannot have this mean it is meant for others, neither
Whatever the odds, I’ll take it
Whatever the challenge, I’ll face it
And at the end of the road, I hope to find someone greater, wiser,
to whom I can say:
“you threw hurdles along my way, and it never even once stopped my rebirth”
Who I am? I go by the name of silence, of balance, of nothingness, of mist.
I am a force to be reckoned with.
You have such a pretty, pretty face, my blue-eyed friend;
a face almost too good to be true
but you only swim in shallow waters
you’ve never met the despair of the trench
Wouldn’t it be a feat to misread my vibrancy?
To project the wishes you make for yourself
onto the spring of my ever-fresh novelty?
I shine as I shine as I breathe life into the deep
You have such a pretty, pretty face –
but I need no permission to be how I be;
the high honors will well serve the sea of sameness
but I will keep moving at my own pace –
back when you knew me, I was puffing and panting,
lagging so far behind
keep your memory fixated on that day
in the meantime, I will be reborn as the tree
that has weathered the storms
do not ask for my guidance, my friend
yet stand puzzled at the thorns
when a vicious cycle reaches the end of its interval
it can be relied upon that my conscience has learnt
how to repair its glasses first, how to refuse the acid
i always said “protect the ruins”, but i’d rather they burn to ashes.
we do not have to be opponents, young one—
for our curves only ever approximate
i do not have to reciprocate animosity
when the stage is yours rightfully
outdo me, outshine me, you will spot me sitting in the first row
earn your accolades, little fledgling; i will seek my own applause.
“What was I born for?” –
these words feel like a déjà-vu.
It seems like I have travelled through a thousand stories
Collected a bright string of multichrome memories
Only to find myself in a place I have grown so used to reaching.
My inner child running towards the horizon, waving her paper kite against the storm
Shooting me an audacious smile –
Sometimes, I watch you with awe
Sometimes, with disquiet.
Even on my way home,
when the fine rain intermingles with the sounds of airplanes and tires
Foil against aleatorik, chirping resounds with unrivaled cheeriness;
I lift my gaze, and it almost seems as if
My feathery friend sets off into heights I am not to familiarize myself with…
I, too, lack courage at times
I, too, lack answers at times
If everyone else figures it out, then why not I?
And just like the chirps, the beams make their way with obstinacy,
reflecting lush on the leaves the wind blew against the paving
Are the chirps becoming clear? Or how are these the things I hear:
“direct your steps hopewards –
this is where the skilled travellers go.
The beginning of each new morning will bear confusion, but
each loss is succeeded by new gain.”
The cherry blossom islands I fancied as a child, floating high above the clouds
I need to grow more to touch them, if only with my fingertips—