afar

from afar

switzerland

guatemala

human

future

past

that job

that partner

that friend

Switzerland

seems an idyllic majesty

with grandiose snow-capped peaks

punctual society,

and prosperous finances.

Up close, I come and see

those peaks are just as inaccessible

(or rather just inconvenient) to climb onto

as those in my homeland.

The punctual culture veils

the stress, discontent,

and disconnection among the peoples.

And amidst the average façade of prosperity

live those addicted, isolated, penurious,

vagabonds from one roof to another,

unseen and unheard by the punctual commons around them,

and the opulently wealthy,

needless of income, needless of work,

with time too large for their needs,

who gorge to fill it with wants.

I come to see the same dirt and rocks line the many roads,

the same chipped paint upon the signs,

and unending chores of garbage and bills

amidst the daily grind.

The same pavement one wearies to walk on,

the same bountiful, unreachable banquets of sky,

which one also desires to reach

yet once there, one finds out

it is but cold water and air.

What is afar can look precious

because it is very not here.

But once we arrive at that we yearned,

that here holds the same rough edges

and gaping, aching voids that nudged us

to leave the place we first left.

for what hurts us are not the unwhole forms we find

(and all forms are unwhole),

it is our discontent thereof.

It persists further than the forms we love and hate,

for it is closer to us than they.

I seek the future yearning redemption,

believing a secret between now and then must set me free,

and forget that that desired point of learning

must become a now to arrive there

and requires that I pay attention

now.

I seek the past and its sepia pictures,

for I keep the relics that I still believe valuable

and believe them to be what I am made of.

When I go back and look

for my long-buried treasure

(or regret),

not only have the tides washed away the shape of the past,

its treasure I already consumed time ago,

and the last morsel, in me undigested,

is what still makes me grasp for more where none is left.

The life of the human

seems rich from afar

a maze of adventures

a sea of calms and storms.

direct control of the building materials

to shape the dreams I desire.

Yet once inside the pains hurt strong,

the efforts are wearying, the choices are endless,

and the calms have too much ennui.

Desires detract and blow us astray,

doubts drench our joy and make us slip,

the winds threaten to capsize our ship,

and anxiety keeps us looking away.

The storms batter and beat us down

while we still learn how to work the sails.

When we lose our bearings and direction disappears,

we learn to read and trust the skies.

And when the vast distances seem endless and without aim,

we remember why we came, step by step if must be,

and breathe on, steady and with trust.

We can only continue here.

The afar's a mirage that up-close, disappears.

The pains and the boredom continue with us,

and so do the joys when we think they are lost.

No harbor is a perennial oasis,

and no storm is eternal doom.

The ship is here and the waves are rolling in.

We must learn to sail.