Do you?

Do you?

Do you dream?
Not when you are asleep but when you are awake
Just sitting in a chair or on a stair
Or lying in bed, alone
Not busy staring at a screen
But just sitting,
Brooding, contemplating, ruminating, waiting
For a person, a moment
Or just with a blank mind
Your gaze careless, your mind relaxed
Your heart throbbing at its usual pace
Your nerves calm
In that moment of pure existence

What do you dream of?
What do you think about?
How do see yourself?
What do you think life is?
What do you want it to be?
Are you happy?
What would make you happy?
Are you alive?
What does it mean to be alive?
What is the meaning of this life?
What is the purpose of your existence?

Or do you just enjoy the moment’s existence
And your existence in it?


In my days of youth

I used to be a romantic once
Dreaming of utopian nights in someone else’s eyes
On those waking nights, which in isolation
Seemed to comprise of moments that appeared eternal,
Drunk on the borrowed glimmer of moon
That somehow managed to outshine the twinkles of a thousand suns,
Just as my hope for a lovely day used to take over the truth
And I used to feel invincible, when I was a romantic, in my days of youth.