Daydreams of a city dweller
Miramar beach is my trusted friend. It is here that I built my first sand castle as a kid. It is here that I wrote my first poem . I shared my grief here with the sea and tears from my eyes fused with the waves to become a part of their calm humming that provides hope.
There is this place, elegant as a nobleman, charismatic as a leader, whoprovides a peek in the corridors of power. The hill of Altinho-abode of the ruling elite. Sometimes I stand before the Archbishops House and pretend I own the place or stand on the heights of Altinho imagining I rule the city spread below. The mentions and bungalows of the city’s powerful barons, the sophisticated black coated lawyers at the high court and government motorcades zooming away with panache are provoking for one’s ambitions.
Every time I roam the city, I am left feeling like there is something still left to explore. I am left longing for more, and then I remember the river. The river that just flows on. Indifferent to the casino ships dotting its waters, indifferent to fishermen circling its depths, indifferent to the bustling city on its banks, the flow of the river reminds me to let go, to move on and head home.