I know that the bougainvillea are pink and they stand in small bouquets on brown branches like a life-sized present.
I know that the road is dusty on either side of the tar and that the gravel rushes into my feet and stays there on my sandals.
I know that, at times, even not watching the sun set does not matter.
Some times time falls away. It leaves your side when you’re not looking and goes away. Where to? You know not. It’s not hanging on the clock and it is definitely not on your wrist watch. It is not in the bus you need to catch and it is not even in the time you have to get home. It’s not in the rising of the sun or the setting of it. And when that happens, you begin to notice the bougainvillea; in knots of baby pink and purple. You stop hearing voices in your head which tell you to hurry up. When time slips away, you begin to live.
Meanings begin to form where chaos was. Roads seem to appear where dead-ends were. Strength begins to peak where the weakness had taken shelter. It pokes around its head from the cocoon and nests in your heart. Tiny, but living. You begin to find yourself where you had lost it all.
And then I think to myself, give me a little more of this time-less world. Take away those clocks, those sun dials, those digital timers; and give me some time on my own. Some time to let me be when I want to. Some time to free myself from the over-analyzing. Some time to keep away from the race that we’ve become. Some time to write poems about nothing. Some time to look at places and think of nothing; not the inscriptions on the walls nor the stories buried in it. Some time to look out at the night sky and see myself in the stars.
There is dichotomy. There is juxtaposition. There is duality.
But then again, there is individuality. There is solitude. There is singularity.
There is finding oneself in the solitude away from time.
And they had said it was only a matter of time.