The flair of living

I sit beside my casement
gazing vacantly into the airspace
while my overgrown bangs slide from behind my ears ascribed to the tender breeze
and budge towards my forehead,
distracting & dragging me back into the actuality.

Here’s when I perceive the verity,
how strenuous a situation it is
when your soul transitions its existence
from your cloudland to the actual reality.

I realize how strenuous it is
to gain your conscience back
the very next moment you step out
of your hot tub after an hour-long bubble bath,
while your maids of honor move towards you with a spotless kimono; in your lala land.

I realize how strenuous it is
to step back into the bitter & perplexing world,
leaving behind the gilded, gleaming threshold
of your self-designed Utopia.

I realize how strenuous it is
to fall back into the cloister of thorny
yet fragrant blossoms;
and I realize how the prickles
perforate your fragile core.

I realize what the connotation of life is;
it is nothing but the flair of persisting
in the present
and not letting your encephalon to escape
into the parallel & currently non-existent sphere of overwhelming yet illusory triumph;
it is nothing but the flair of savoring
the bit you’re physically existing in.