While we may become
separated at times,
your presence always lingers,
reminding me that you were once by my side
and will be once again.

There are moments of clarity.
They come sparingly
And I ache for their return
Once they decide to depart.

In those mere seconds
I finally know what my life entails
And accept the greatness I hold.
I am at a high that throws my mind
Above its own capabilities,

But I know the end is near
Once my body begins to plummet
Through the stratosphere,
A simple shooting star
To the eyes of onlookers.

"What's the reason
you keep on living?"

"Because there may
be happiness written
for me tomorrow,
and if not tomorrow,
then maybe the day after."

My father used to bring home kites
from Pakistan,
made out of colorful paper
and thin sticks.

Mine was pink and blue,
and caught my eye as soon
as it was taken out.
It was beautiful,
and i imagined it soaring through
the skies,
viewable from all the houses in town.

The yarn was grey,
and had minuscule shards of glass
woven within it.
My father told me that it was for kite fighting,
the way they used to do it from the rooftops
of the villages.

One would fly the kite
and the other would be in charge of the spool.
Together, they would change altitudes
and attempt to cut other kite strings.
The last kite left in the air would be the winner.

And my mind would run to those rooftops,
the very sand ridden rooftops he had described.
Imaginarily controlling the kite
with a friend handling the spool behind me.
Together winning the kite fighter crown,
and my father being proud of his only son.

All while i lay in bed,
with a grand imagination,
and not a single clue
on how to make the last thought a reality.

One after the other
I am abandoned;
Reminiscing the same movements
My father exhibited when
He wanted to start anew.

The human body is made up
Of skin and bones,
Blood gushing through veins
Repeatedly, a job done nearly sixty times a minute.
And yet we are more than just that.

I am a shell of my former self,
My passion has dwindled,
And so has my own will to live.
I am not the same person who fell in love with this life,
Innocently calling it mine.

My personality flees by the danger I convince myself that I am in.
Hopping on trains and planes,
Cars and even bikes.
They flee and do not intend to return.

I am hollow,
A former shell of who I used to be.
And while emotions are difficult to come by,
I only hope they come back to their motherland,
Knowing that it is safe once again.

I would be a fool to compare
Your presence to that
Of a candle towering valiantly in a dark room,
Acting as a guide as some would say.
You would eventually burn out,
Leaving me alone with no sense of direction.

You are closer to a star
On an unpolluted night,
Making your way to me
No matter the distance.
And even though you may
Become sheathed at times,
Knowing you are always there
Brings me a sense of relief.

My fingers twitch,
And mind races.
I am in a do or die situation,
Where the very hope of my future lies.
If I do not take the risk,
My future will be put off for
Yet another four months,
But if I do, I may succeed,
And finally get my life started
After a prolonged twenty-two years
Of anxious wait.

May the odds be in our favor,
May god grant us all some sort
Of prosperity.