Monday, February 16, 2009

I can.

I can soak the first rain and taste the virgin snow.
I can sit along the river, just like a stone; and listen to the ripples.
I can gaze at the dark night and reckon the uncountable stars.
I can look in the eyes of the sun. But how I wish I could melt, for it's too cold inside.

I can hum aloud that melody even if I forgot the words, long ago.
I can bump in to a sidewalk, meeting a memory I try to forget.
I can laugh at the moments, separated by time and distance.
I can leave something behind, to never find it, ever again.
I can pretend I don’t know, even if a part of me says, I do.
I can scribble my life, unwritten before.

I can hesitate less, if I’m judged lesser.

For I’m nothing but a speck of black smudged on white.
An oddity lost in the even.
An anomaly in the cluster of normal.
A stranger amidst the known.
A face dissolved in the crowd.

Let me stop by, to witness my life.
I can grow old along with myself.

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