Back in the days of my youth, I was just a boy when I first encountered her. She had this incredible ability to make me dream. As time unfurled its wings, I transformed into a man, and it was during this transition that she initiated what I came to call the ghost protocol. Between the innocence of boyhood and the responsibilities of manhood, she molded me into a poet.
She entered my life like a sudden burst of sunlight, and just as swiftly as she appeared, she vanished, leaving me with the echoes of her presence. I called her Ruth. Looking back, I realize that something went awry, and it all traces back to the moment when I met her. A meeting I shouldn't have allowed. But, as they say, bygones are bygones, and now I yearn to forge ahead.
The desert, my current abode, is a peculiar place. It is both spiritual and draining, affecting me in ways I struggle to comprehend. Whether it transforms me into a sage or a wealthy man, leads me to an early demise, or grants me a long life, one thing remains constant—I love this desert. There's an indescribable allure that pulls me towards the unknown.
I am still that shepherd boy, wandering toward the pyramids, yearning to meet the ancient kings, pharaohs, alchemists, warriors, ghosts, and everything exotic.
I have no regrets for the losses I've incurred, except for Ruth. Meeting her was a juncture where my capabilities faltered. Yet, I believe the world is a small place, and our paths may cross again.
Comments
Post a Comment