There's light.
But it doesn't blind me.
It doesn't overwhelm me.
It's more like
a distant lamp
that barely touches the edge of things.
And I walk.
Yes.
I walk.
With my whole body,
with a half-hearted laugh,
with the days that are too similar to each other.
The glass isn't empty,
but it's not full either.
And the sip,
though lukewarm,
doesn't quench the thirst that I don't know where it comes from. This is my day to day.
I'm not sad.
Nor am I complete.
I'm something in process
that neither advances nor retreats,
only breathes.
There's still time.
That's what I tell myself. And in the meantime,
I stay here,
in this almost.
At this point between two things
I can't name
but that sustain me.
Because there's still something.
Even if I don't know what.
