Dumaguete in May

"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right
I hope you had the time of your life." - Green Day

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Passing

Some nights don't beg for sleep but keep your eyes locked in the dark staring at the nothing that has passed your body so many times. You must have caught it once, maybe twice, then went on to somewhere more important; a celebration where firm hands would clink glasses full of wine. Try as you might, you can no longer recall for whom the party was, or what was so eventful you were glad to be there that night. But it was where everyone placed their life on desires as though the endless meant the sun would fail to rise. Anyhow, nothing, for so long, has passed: It is no longer a question of how much time you have wasted. Hope is a man on a train who missed your station because he was busy pitying the drunk who fell by his side. He was always passing, and wherever he went, he was expected. He had everywhere to go.