Forget for a moment the dissonance between
people and places, ideologies and realities.
You are eighteen years old again and wondering
what it will feel like to be fourty and if your
world will still be around. Those days when
you succumbed to stillness and muttered
angrily afterwards about should-have-dones and
could-have-dones and realized that the only
thing stopping you, was you.
Who will remember, thirty years from now, if
you never grasped the urgency of a fleeting moment,
never said “Hello!” to that one charming woman,
never sat with someone new for the sake of adventure
and a happier day for the both of you, except for
who will know all the growth to be manifested
by the aches of urgency
Who but you will know what went unsaid?