First Lives

when i stare at the sun, do you reckon that it is unsmart of me? 
the blinding rays strikingly yellow and i can feel the prickling heat 
piercing on my skin—still, i do it anyway. 
when i trip and roll down the hill, headfirst into the dirt, 
mud everywhere and i can taste it on my teeth,
still, i come out laughing—do you suppose there is a hint of madness there?
i am no mind reader, and perhaps i've stopped trying. 
these preconceived notions that only exist in another human being's brain. 
what does it know of me? 
the same thing i cannot predict how it is wired to perceive a mere existence.
here, let me tell you what i think. you do not need to understand.
the sun is my best friend everytime it rises to meet me. 
and i bathe in the glorious warmth of what might not last forever.  
a free being, unbowed.
among the wild intricacies of busy lives and passing nights, 
how often do we pause to bask in the occurrence of an event? 
and let me tell you this. 
there is a sense of triumph when you roll down the hill and stand back up again.
i am no stranger to randomness and such chaos.
a sweet momentary mistake not taken seriously
when we sometimes ought to find delight in our child-like ways. 
see, we never stop questioning.
but there is wide-eye wonder and serendipity in answers unsought for. 
isn't it beautiful how you’ve created an image of me in your head?
woven by all the things you have seen, yet it may never be the truth.
they say meaning lies in the absence of meaning.
so when i can't figure you out like a puzzle piece
and my mind tries to fill in the gaps,
i stop to take in the moment and realize that i am no different from the rest.
i don't know you. i don't really know you.

but maybe we’re not on a mission to find all the answers,
and the only thing worth living for is time well spent
ceaselessly existing around each other, among the comfort of another soul 
that has gone down the same path of wonder and confusion.
in the end, we're all living our first lives and we know nothing at all.



lysarchived. 06/29/24.