I.

They say happiness is a function of hindsight

Does that mean I let the future weighs me down 

with little, if not, with no resistance?

Do I contend myself with poetry now

And use it as an excuse for life?

But if "regret

Is only realizing

The truth too late”

How do I learn 

To regather one’s self gracefully?

I pray:

"God, grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change;

Courage to change the things I can;

And wisdom to know the difference."

II.

Our future  lies now in how we use our words

And shift ourselves through their meanings

We can reshape this world 

History is not only about the past

But also about the enormous possibility of the present

Poets, where are you?

This is our time

This is what we are meant to do:

To tell everyone that

“There are two kinds of home: 

The home which is a given

And the home gained through possession, 

Hard-earned,

Made out of choice,

The labor of understanding

Where we gradually arrive” 

Where are those empty papers?

Let’s build our new cities there

With quieter streets,

Cleaner air,

Wilder forests 

Where we can communion

With birds,

Beasts,

And dolphins

III.

“Who said we will forget the spacious lot with wild grasses

Where we once raced and played hide and seek as children,

Now that it has become a big mall?"

There are no complete departures

Our lives would always flash before us,

Even when we are in trains

And roofs of houses distract us 

Like waves rising and falling

We would always remember those moments

When we were calculating 

Our slightest movement

When we slept next to each other

When only sounds of passing cars 

Sliced through thoughts 

Of how is it possible 

For our bodies not to want to touch

Each other

IV.

Last night, everything was still 

The window was open

And we drank from the moon's cup

Our fingers traveled freely 

Along the lines of our skins

As we traced our shared histories

Among the curves;

The rise and fall of our chests

Not until I said ‘love’ that all was shaken

You turned your back

And concealed expectations and doubts

We forced our ways to sleep

And made ourselves believe 

We startled nothing

V.

I humble, 

I surrender,

The pang of loneliness 

Is implacable 

And unforgiving

I acknowledge space,

I perceive time,

How did I survive all these years? 

How did I accept the coming and going?

I trace memory,

I try to remember 

The past that does not know 

How to wait, 

Always quickening to oblivion

I recall vaguely 

The desire

That could not be extinguished, 

That kindles,

I look for the sun

And collect myself,

Of what I could

Please rise,

Please rise,

Please rise

VI.

These sands---

Ever shifting,

Not surrendering to time,

Providing me with clarity,

Making me more understand 

Impermanence;

Temporality,

I always revolt,

Hold what is mortal,

Self-defeating it may be

I tell myself,

“Water must be lonely

To possess matter for a moment

Only to flow slow to its death in humid air”

But there is no other action 

But to awaken one’s faith,

Defy dusk

And profess possibilities of light,

There is no retreat,

Mornings will always be cold

And days short

But we must believe again,

Become animals 

With thick skins,

Do not fear,

Do not self-preserve,

Nothing could ever prepare us 

In that final hour of separation,

For gravity pulls us down

At that very brief “goodbye”