#44

Here I am

looking at new prospects.

Much like how the stars

look up at the sea

for sea urchins, anemones, or clowns,

the glowing sand,

combed by the ebb of the sea,

belittles what they are—

gazing into the infinite before them.

I do wonder myself

sometimes:

is there more to life,

after all

the callouses, sleepless nights,

sweat-filled days,

days spent with growling stomachs,

even empty stomachs,

aching hearts—

still,

after each day,

I breathe.

I’m alive.

Though no longer thankful

as I used to be,

the warmth of closing my eyes

feels distinctly euphoric.

With my head still on top of my neck,

my eyes fixed on the ceiling—

sometimes just the night sky,

filled with wires and concrete walls

on the periphery—

is all there is to it

I’ve already reached?