Limitless
written by: Jay
As a kid, when I found out about immortality
I was thrilled.
Living forever, in this world with all this clear blue sky
Mango trees and my best friend
It’d be perfect.
If I met God as a kid, that is what I’d have asked
To be immortal.
As I grow older, the idea that a God may offer immortality seems more and more cruel.
It appeased me when mother said none of them actually do.
The world had some grey tinges by then
Mangoes were still sweet, though.
When I quit college, went for a job, and returned months later for my certificates,
My professor asked, “You just want to do it all?”
We choked on the dust and smoke.
But there were still the clear blue skies above it.
You just had to squint really hard.
Mangoes did not taste as good.
So, I moved on to other things.
It was good for a while; the goodness didn’t last as long as the mangoes.
This winter, I went to the mountains with friends.
The lush forest, babbling waterfalls made us forget the dust, smoke, the urgency of everyday, and our replaceability.
On the third day, the waterfalls seemed colourless.
The immortality-seeking-goodness of things was short-lived.
With this body and mind, I must live forever, though.
This is what I promised the kid who loved immortality.
To see every mountain, sail through all oceans.
To stand on the precipice of the last planet that sunlight reaches,
Live all lives, all dreams.
So, on evenings, I feel trapped with my limitless mind and my small body carrying the weight.
The path has become incredibly narrow since the last turn I took.
At 26, like my colleagues, I find myself fishing through the cosmic trash of the Universe
To find dying, shimmering stars.
I hold them in my hand, and the faint glow illuminates my small room, lasting a few weeks.
