There is one day for everything.
One day…that will seek dust
On the back of a camel
To ride into the sunset
Of a desert monsoon,
One day…when I shall have written
All my last wishes, not only my dreams,
In one single rhapsody, my tuneless song,
Origamied into a lone butterfly.
Can butterflies be lonely?
Some days maybe…
Another one day,
I will have watched the moon stride
Through the primer-scented grills
And play peek-a-boo
On the wings of my butterfly
Across the black sky,
Out of my line of sovereign sight.
One day…I will lie down
On sheets of sand soaked in the
Crashing tears of the sea,
Spread-eagled, with arms frosted
In golden muck, praying and
Pretending that gods of quick-sand
Would make a one-wish exception for me.
One day…I will surmount the broken step
Of open-air canvases
And lived long enough to breathe
The hot air there and tell the tale
To the pink-cheeked, one-liner-king,
Blue boy with a palm
Ready for alms.
One day, he shall surmount as well…
One day…I will have crossed
The esplanade intersection without
Reliving the needless, manic squeals
Of holding hands and racing the traffic lights
In one blind-sided go…
One day…I will have remembered
To bring along extra batteries along
With the torch on my search for the
Lost and forgotten time-capsules…
One day, I will remember the date
Of today and write my dreams in a single song
Replacing one day with Today.