A day spent hugging mom,
A day spent on the streets amidst maskless merries,
An evening spent dancing away on a beach at sundown; but
The ordinary is impossible, the ordinary is dead.
I am not a prisoner but I am bonded:
Bonded to my happy memories, please erase them for me,
Bonded to my hopes, which dont come true anymore,
Memories hurt, but hope is a dream made of gossamer wings,
Beautiful, delicate and easily destroyed.
I live with perfect imperfections but sometimes the imperfections are too perfect:
Flitting from day to day, hiding behind meals and smiles,
I am trying positive, but the collective pain of billions tears up the most positive of us,
I stopped reading the news, but it just finds me wherever I run,
Survival is fine-tuned to the ignorant now.
The only way to live is to imagine the extraordinary now:
A day watching my grand-mother hugging my son,
A day spent without worrying tomorrow will bring tragedy,
An evening spent under the stars in a rainy forest ground,
A day when positivity seems easy...
