Written by Caela Magale
Art by Caela Magale
bask in whatever it is you painstakingly crave to do,
keep running until the very thing your soul aches for
has no choice but to be yours,
before the sun ceases its existence.
some things they’d tell you-
motivational by a grain of salt;
those grains might as well be fistfuls
you never learned to take things one at a time,
something your mother would agree with
the little footprints you’ve left remain,
always finding a way for the jar of sugar cookies on top of the fridge
too high for a 3 footer’s reach
your brain has always been programmed with codes of
consume consume consume,
immediately, urgently, now
dive into cumbersome depths,
take and keep it all in
and grab at what poor or daunting thing gets in your sight
add a mental label and file
and on top of it all,
carve them to your advantage
until the unimpressible thing in the mirror
says you’ve earned their respect
until that doubtful thing behind the glass
is left with no choice but to follow your lead.
at first what they meant when they said to do as much as you can
was stretched out within your grasp,
but just as instantly like some creature it blinked,
morphing as if going about its life cycle.
you said you never saw it again
but this is just what i think-
you’ve always had foresights on it,
that abominable thing tearing up a months-good blanket, the pupa.
see? it doesn’t even take much for you
to backtrack your transmutation
from being once a chaser of the sun
while it’s still affixed in the patchwork of clouds
to host competitions with it, such a deadly race.
no surprises that you have gone so far as setting a countdown ‘til its fall,
a deadline before you can outdo it.