Last hour

This is my very last hour as a 24 years old man.

Gutted in fear of getting older yet again, I walk in circles, looking for some company, just to find out that, in all reality, all I needed was some proper time with my own self.

As the clock makes it way around, it will be a quarter of a century for me.

And what have I done in all this years?

Looking back in retrospective seems utter foolishness to me.

This is something I do every night before I sleep, whilst I pray to the Heavens, begging forgiveness for my sins and misconducts.

There is nothing new in my past for me to discover.

Everything seems so perfectly figured out…

There are, indeed, many missing and unfitting pieces in this fuzzy puzzle.

Uncomfortable situations and perplexity are part of my every day life, but so what?

It is undoubtful that there is still so much to do so as to make some sense out of this existence. Somehow, someway. I have no words for what or when, but I know. Deep inside, as a twirled reflex in turbulent dark waters, the answers calmly lay, staring back at me, while I cannot quite tell them apart.

For years, I have been caught in the middle.

Perhaps finding the beauty across the way, rather than looking far in the distance, searching for the face of the destination, should be giving me the best response.

Perhaps I should have worked harder.

A quarter of century it will be, in just a matter of minutes.

From a year ago, I can only remember, with a heartfelt fondness, the very first happy birthday wish I was given that night, and what a perfect life, framed in a single day, followed.

- And, must obviously, the figure that did not too take long to unveil itself, laying comfortably in my very heart.

A quarter of century it will be, as the clock ticks faster.

Memories, promises and wishes of starry nights and flowered fields remain in the distance, in the other end of the road, in the other end of the air bridge.

A quarter of century it will be, in almost no time.

And I believe I am blessed for getting older.