The Harvest

The whole idea of it makes me feel overwhelmed, Something stronger than any drug Or the kind of dizzy I get from the welching heat -- A kind of feeling the young can’t comprehend A shattered clock of the lost time A puzzlement of the soul. You tell me to cherish these fleeting moments But that is because you have already crossed that river I am currently treading The mirror shows you a face you no longer recognize And the clock on the wall is like a ticking time bomb: tick, tick, tick But I can still remember listening to the footsteps of my parents though I should be sleeping At thirteen I as a borderland between a playground and a storm I could see the world with a jaded lense; colorful and bright, full of opportunities By fifteen responsibilities began to creep At seventeen I was a senior, an echo of the freshman I used to be But soon I am mostly a signature on a paper that will gain dust Watching the people I've known for years become strangers. Back then it never occurred to me that this day would come so fast And I didn't know that saying goodbye would feel like losing a version of my self And the walls that once felt neverending are suddenly just paths to an exit This is the beginning of my life, I say to myself, As I put my cap and gown on through the universe of my own making. It is time to make my younger self proud, Time to trust the feet that carried me here. It seems only yesterday I used to believe If you swallow a pit you will harvest a watermelon. If I closed my eyes I could move things with my mind. But now I unclench my fists and let the childhood magic go, I carry the seeds. I wait for the harvest.