Once in your life, you come across this one person.
This one encounter you never know whether to regret or to relive.
One that makes you strip off every belief you’ve ever carried within your bones, and become a blank canvas, ready to be splashed, to be messed up, with fresh colors.
But sometimes.. colors aren’t colors.
Sometimes it’s just black ink.
Black ink that marks down all those broken promises as you watch them go.
And your life becomes confined in a little carry-on.
First, you carry those mournful eyes, those hesitant smiles.
You carry the bits and pieces of your dignity, you get on a plane, and you run for miles.
You carry those unanswered questions, those words tripping at the tip of your tongue.
When will my wandering mind find peace
When will my nomad heart find home
You’re a foreigner to your own body.
But then you wake up one day and the picture is complete,
because yesterday the sun set, and so did all your pains. all the aching pieces of your soul you’ve carried within you in obscure silence.
And today the sun rose, and you finally knew that home is you.
you are everything.
you are so enough.
So you unpack this little carry-on of yours,
and you carry yourself Home.