The Shore

I am- unfixed, unhinged, uncertain.

I am- a nobody, a no one, yet everybody & everyone at the same time.

For some time- I am.

In here, in my mind- I am.

Ever present, ever still, yet everywhere else, unseen.

And these possibilities, this ghastly freedom is precisely why I keep floating.

Always at the sea, thinking.

Dreaming away, drifting.

Never dropping anchor in the lands of reality.

If our actions define our character,

Then look at this blank slate, for I haven’t done anything.

Look at these unknown ways,

These uncharted lands,

The infinite places I haven’t been in.

And ask me if I’ll go?

For choosing one means giving others away.

For choosing reality means being truly awake.

Maybe this is what travelling means,

Digesting the trade-off of every step you take.

The echo of ticking time ringing through your ears,

And savouring your moments anyway.

Maybe this is how you live.

Putting aside what you want and make do with what is there.

Maybe that is what your duty is.

To keep rowing without knowing where you’ll reach.

To keep faith and to keep at it.

To believe that the shore will find you one day,

To believe that it’ll be exactly everything you ever believed.


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