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Some come. Some go. Some stay.
One day, they’ll leave anyway.
Sheltered from the light, they’ll burst forth and land on a leaf, perhaps a branch.
They say that the stars aren’t that shiny anymore. They can’t see them anymore, they say. They’re there, but they’re no longer ours.
We all chase after the same dreams. Of skies, of seas, of lands…and the heavens above.
We all choose the same trees. But there’s only space for so many.
Time, is also a state of mind.
Nothing is certain. Nothing carved in stone.
The nights may rain, the days may cry. You and I do. But there’s nothing left to say.
As wings touch the tip of feathered ice, my mind falls once again into the abyss that calls my name.
I am not drowning, not yet. I will not let myself.
I learnt to swim when I was 5 and now, 20 years later, I shall continue on this quest.
I’ll skim the surface and watch as dolphins sing their praises. Life that honours that of another. They, the ones who save.
If I carry on, things may change. If I stand still, the world doesn’t stop moving.
When you leave, I’ll be on my own. Perhaps I’ll miss you. Perhaps I’ll find someone new. It was uncertainty, before I met you. But I’m glad to have a place in your thoughts. Your standards speak of higher grounds. But still, I’m glad I matched that height.
There, I hear it again. The whistle in the cave. Like the snake upon the sand.
This time, there’ll be no pilot. No scattered plane. No little boy. No roses and a sheep.
All that is left – the fox in my hands. To have and to hold, to remember and to live with.
When the hour before the hour nears, I will start to be happy.
