Hands, by Arcanum Poeta (2025.06.25)

Ly: Why are you in such a rush to grow up? Can’t you enjoy being young, for once?

Tru: I am running away.

Ly: From what? From whom? What are you-

Tru: From the past. I am running away from the past. It’s trying to catch me. It’s going to catch me…unless I reach the future.

I am trying to catch it, the future, it’s what will save me. I see it in front of me, a light, bright and shiny, calling me. And I reach…I reach and grab it, and then I open my fist and on my palm all I see is the present. A dull, silver ball of present. And I throw it away, I discard it as my eyes fall on the bright future in front of me, teasing and running away from me.

One day, the past will catch me, and in its warm embrace it will hold me, it will surround me. Everything will be past. I will be in the past. Forgotten, taken away. I can’t let that happen, and that’s why I run. I’ll always run. Because there is only one escape. There is-

Ly: God you are cynical, I can’t believe it.

Tru: Not cynical, my love, I am a realist. Open your eyes, look behind you. Open your eyes and look at your palm, what are you trying to see? The present, like a madman, or the future, like me?