Most days, at the end of it we always return to familiar places, spaces and people in our mind, and though this distinction we draw between what seems more familiar is short lived from time to time, we keep coming back to it. Over the last five days I have flown over 11, 232 miles to the warmer southern counterparts, and though the warmth of the heart speaks of grander journeys to me, they are constant reminders of surprises. Coming back though, far from fresh starts, always seems to capture that extended luxury of a fresh one, the idea of starting the new found day with an indifferent zeal. For today I write to the indifference we enjoy in familiar places when we revisit them, the beauty of playing out "nostalgia" in that short lived time, almost as though enough time had passed.
The Indifferent Familiar
For today I write to fresh starts we often steal, in the absence of a few days,
The writings we write with no different zeal, just in a very different way.
We have traveled far, through many a closed doors we have peeked to the other side,
Through security checks and airport lines and through the panics of long flights.
You have traveled long , you have gone but far and wide,
Through checks and crossings of the days, you have written to people from a far away,
You have felt the New, every time you stopped, to take a breath; every time you took a stride,
You have grown out of airport lounges, and recycled air in cold vents on a warmer days
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The indifference grows in familiar places, the moments we can no longer comprehend,
Has the day merely started this way, or does it carry of the burden of the places where it ends?
We often create Nostalgia, it comes with memories even those created in shorter times,
They are not about time zones, just familiar things as they are born out of thin air in our minds.
You have grown up at times, wishing to run away, to travel as though nothing ties you down,
No wings that tire out under the great blue sky, no ocean too wide to turn you around,
In metal cages you fly, with windows you peek outside, & with the wind beneath your feet,
You look for solid ground, in bounds and leaps and in your indifference you look for familiar things.
The Indifferent Familiar
For today I write to fresh starts we often steal, in the absence of a few days,
The writings we write with no different zeal, just in a very different way.
We have traveled far, through many a closed doors we have peeked to the other side,
Through security checks and airport lines and through the panics of long flights.
You have traveled long , you have gone but far and wide,
Through checks and crossings of the days, you have written to people from a far away,
You have felt the New, every time you stopped, to take a breath; every time you took a stride,
You have grown out of airport lounges, and recycled air in cold vents on a warmer days
The indifference grows in familiar places, the moments we can no longer comprehend,
Has the day merely started this way, or does it carry of the burden of the places where it ends?
We often create Nostalgia, it comes with memories even those created in shorter times,
They are not about time zones, just familiar things as they are born out of thin air in our minds.
You have grown up at times, wishing to run away, to travel as though nothing ties you down,
No wings that tire out under the great blue sky, no ocean too wide to turn you around,
In metal cages you fly, with windows you peek outside, & with the wind beneath your feet,
You look for solid ground, in bounds and leaps and in your indifference you look for familiar things.
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