Past

g

I gaze, as I pass by those familiar structures,
Those crowded, colloquial streets buzzing with life,
Those familiar faces, though pretentious, asking me to come back,
The delightfully dirty street food, asking me to savor it,
The slow, chaotic traffic movement, signaling the flow of my life,
The edifice of my existence which envisioned my growth,
The seasoned gust of wind, grasping me, holding me back,
The complacent breeze, which coiled me in the comfort of its lap,
The emotional remembrances making my existence stagnant,
The ray of hope, making itself stronger than any internal force,
Delving into those greasy pores of frustration, pushing me,
Begging me to take another step to happiness, another dive into delirium, another whirl to satisfaction.