The Prodigal Son

Time, a grain in the sands of eternity.

Life, the habit of complexity,

responsibility,

monotony.


Life? Mundane? Its epitome.

Home? Dull and Pure.

The Outside world? My unknown adventure.


Tormented by thoughts' crowd,

You exit, on a cloud.

"Destination; Unknown!"

At last, you fly alone!

The cloud reigns!


Then rains.

Precipitated to reality,

You search for pity.

Initial thoughts regurgitate themselves.

Your mind, homeward bound, sails

Until dashed against fears of rejection.


Yet you return at memories' mercy

And are drenched in love, no longer thirsty.

Through determination, Habit turns Grain to Beauty.



Date: junior in high school

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