In the quietness of night, I was pulled into the tides of elsewhereness. I came across many old posts of hopes, of dreams, aspirations, of fulfilment but the thunderstorm arrived, stroke me by the core that these are all the same thing, over & over, from days to months to years; they resemble the same wish, same hope, same longing, desire, same aim & expectation that it hit me hard into a wake up call, what if another year goes by & I am still here? with the same thing? what if the year after that & I am still writing the same old prayers, affirmations, love notes, poems, proses & somehow even after I let it go, I found myself again & again in this position? Then I looked into the mirror, I found my grey hair looking back at me. How they sped before my eyes while I was waiting for something big, something unknown to fall from grace, to prove to me that my patience is rewarding, my sacrifices are worthwhile but tonight, those old posts made me realised, how I still sound the same, that they may change in rhythm but their melody, the chords, are the same, & I thought for that one moment, I held my breath for one last second before I completely collapse into rockiest bottom. How complex can it be, to keep hoping for a seed you know it would not grow even after you care for it & give it your all? How devastating & heart wrenching it is to just be ahead of time knowing you have left the desert but still behind with the same stance waiting for the rain to fall down? Hope & faith, I had so much of it that, year after year it has evidently shown through those posts but turned out perhaps, perhaps it is time to no longer holding on to those same old hope & faith. I will be okay without it. I will. I did. I have. I am —
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© D C de Oliveira || April 20 2019 || Saturday 8.18pm
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