All Pursuits Worthwhile: Wishing for Less Instead of More

 

I am a boy pushing a matchbox car along a winding cliffside road.

I am witnessing the boy.  He is smiling.  He has not yet fallen.

I am the emptiness of the sky above the winding road.

I am the winding road for the wheels and the feet to follow.

I am the driver, head down, wheels between the guardrails.

I am the passenger who forgets to look at the plants that line the road. 

I forget to watch them grow.  I forget that everything changes.

 

I do not smell the changing of the seasons,

The rotting mangoes, the fallen rocks, the perfect day

I am the driver, head down, oblivious eyes.

I do not measure time between breaths as the world slows to a halt.

I do not think of the last time I jumped to touch a roof.

I do not hear the world over the ringing of what I thought was urgent.

I cannot hear myself over the rain.  

I cannot hear the rain over myself.

I cannot see myself as the boy.

When was the last time I sat and took a breath.

I always thought I could handle solitary prison.

I always thought a superhero was imperfect when they didn’t save the world on their first try.

And now, I am having trouble with the day ahead of me.

 

I am the boy who grew up and still wants to push the matchbox car.

I am the boy with his head out the window watching the world pass by.

I am the boy who grew up trying to shift the wind.

I am the boy today.   

Today, I am not thinking of tomorrow.