it ended a milestone, a fire- work without the blast quiet, underwhelmed I fell asleep
but this end, the bittersweet replica of the memories and books and words of crowds and hallways and people whose faces pass and pass and pass
this end, it has to mean some- thing, thing that I can't hold nor revisit but the thing that sinks in the encrusted bit of my heart. The thing that will manifest when years down, in a new home, or a new country or a new mountain. This thing, the four years of life here, there, nowhere, is, in many ways, everywhere.
a graduation poem (i finished college today and my thoughts processed it like this)