We humans of many places
with roots in many soils
and hearts torn and divided
into thousands of pieces for all
the people we have loved,
are conflicted not only in the many
paths our feet have to choose
to walk upon
but also in the timeliness of our
It is easy for humans to become short-sighted and forget
the enormity of our lives,
future and past,
forgetting that although the magnitude of
the present overwhelms all memories and hopes,
it is the ungraspable idea that
life will always be in the present tense,
and the experiences we are
yet to have will be just as
I can testify with hand over heart
that love is the most blinding drug of all –
what hope have we then
us lovers of life?
Are we condemned to stumble
through the ravines and mountain passes
and gentle forests and
brown untraveled paths we come across?
Or is the beauty of this conundrum
that the blindness of love
does not dim one’s senses,
but heightens them to a godly state wherein
mere colours are now technicolour,
and instead pulls a sheet over the mundanity,
the things not worth paying attention to anyway?
But being in love with the present,
the places but most importantly the
people one stumbles across unexpectedly
(for the best people are always those we least expect in our lives)
anchors the heart and sinks it at
the thought of moving on to the next place,
there is always a next place,
we cannot stay here long,
the road is calling,
new friends and lovers and
mountains and adventures
are summoning you and your backpack.
And like any addict we eventually cave
to our vice and gleefully
give ourselves wholly
to the greatest love affair of our lives;
But what about those left behind?
For there are always people we will
regret to leave,
who will occupy our hearts for the rest of our lives
even if we knew them for a month,
or maybe our exchange was a few simple words,
or a brief kiss,
or a surprised glance as one
glided past on a bus.
Even if we never see them again,
those people as we knew them
in that exact moment,
cut out of time and glued into
our scrapbook of life,
will forever be there for us,
the invisible friend always by my side.
I, with my itching feet, know
that I must not hesitate too long for fear
of leaving the people I love,
but that’s all that matters anywhere in the world.
I can’t help believing that
I will never find any people better than these I know.
Naivety, I call myself a
well-travelled person and continue thinking this.
I know there is no rank of goodness for
each person I meet,
step I take,
sky I see,
experience I savour.
All are equal in perfection.
I henceforth vow to let no fear possess me,
and I will walk onwards in my blind trusting
love of life knowing that only ever