Thoughts assail me in the quiet,

When the world is asleep is how I welcomed them,

But lately, they surround me in the day,

On my way to work, while at work, seated in a matatu, eating a mango, drinking coffee.

Life is mist, when the wind blows it ceases,

So are my thoughts, but they persist, the living do not.

So, I am at that age when the giants whose shoulders I stood on take a bow,

C says it’s the age where we bury our parents, friends, and dreams,

But I refuse to acknowledge it as a loss,

For we all live for many days, take many breaths, create memories and to cease to celebrate that because of the one day we cease to be…is a great loss.

Now I am more in love with horizons because what I choose to focus on determines how close or far,

How vast or limited it is,

and just like that, horizons assail my thoughts.