slips seeking3

David Bisset


February 23, 2019

i remember when i first arrived here. how an hour seemed like an eternity, and how patience was a foreign word. but now, now the minutes slip through my sand-encrusted fingers and i can’t seem to hold on tight enough. the days flow in and out. light and dark. they open and close nearly the same. yet, i seek to understand a bit more of me with each setting sun.
i am nowhere near ready now to be uprooted as i once was. a part of me is here–and i surrender to the fact that it always will be.

David Bisset