To a friend who lost his way Eshan Manglani Surd, most beginnings are, not yours, I thought. Everytime you close your little blinking eyes the asterisks of the skies dethaw— azure to ashes, that stale of. One day I could still say Those arms would be mine, That you call home. One day we’d live by the sea. I cannot say, I cannot show. Losing has never been, neither you nor I. If you give up, so will I. But it takes too much courage for that. One day, we could instead just live by the sea. I cannot promise there will be no storms there (lesser than here though) And while you were gone, I’d heard, rowing boats is a hobby of yours.
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