The tide turns. Waves race toward your toes. Tonight, you wonder if somebody at the edge of this sea, on a similar breakwater or probably on a parallel universe, sits and skips stones just like you do. But you can only make out a blink arranged neatly in the island before you.
It’s been 30 days and 30 years. And you want to find yourself elsewhere. Some place better than this. Perhaps on a cliff. No. A bamboo platform on a cliff. A room with doors that open to the sea. The gauze curtains gathered to one side. With the surf, hazy white lines that falls and rises. Falls. Rises.
ei sir, is it the weather? jejeje.
ReplyDeletetoo early for 'mid life crisis,' buddy!
ReplyDeletefall seven times, rise eight. :)
ReplyDeletethe storm now gone. long gone :D
ReplyDeleteby golly, this entry sounds, yes, something like that already. need to shift gears. pronto.
ReplyDeletethis is just one of those rare moments. you know, alone. the sea in front. darkness all around.
ReplyDeleteat any rate, i'd like to self-assess this one as nothing short of a reflection. the term "midlife crises," the way it is defined in psychology, makes me uncomfortable.
hmmn, it's good to slow down once in a while in this fast-paced world of ours. it helps with catching up on our souls. *and* with our stomachs catching up with us. ;p
ReplyDeleteSpurs. Of breath. Of thoughts. That make the days. That form out. Sentences. Into years.
ReplyDelete(hehe sampol lang.. suway suway ba...)
e.e. cummings, esdatchu? :)
ReplyDeletesoo nice. hands down!
ReplyDelete