Termites Keep Moving…

The Decay Between Heartbeats

My eyes
wanna decorate
this ordinary world…
this un-carved broken face.
Smiling,
choosing…
let me put my cheap glasses
over my view.
Let me embrace…

The shade of my shoes brings every halt.
But I keep moving,
dragging afar,
walking with bones,
burdens, and loads.
These shoulders have grown tired.
How do I take the weight…
off my heart?

My dreams seem expensive.
Responsibilities lie
along the route.
History wants to come back.
I’ll rewrite my own myth.
The people I call family or friends
deceived me to my roots.
My home will be somewhere.
My courage has never known defeat.

I miss myself,
my spotless heart.
A stomach that’s not hungry
still needs warmth.
Dust settled over every mirror.
Something has been missing
forever,
ever since I became aware.

Oh, the land is broken,
and so am I.
My deeds need a writer ,
my own pen nearby.
Searching for a place
where I belong,
learning how to carry,
how to give life
to my dream.

Wooden locks hang on doors.
Hinges rust.
The courtyard calls.
The self’s screaming
has turned into little remains.

Sunken here
like a lost river,
time flows out…
I stand among aliens.
Termites keep coming… piercing this heart.
Darkness, let me engulf the bruise.
My swords are here, waiting for me.

This is the pause in my search…
my destination,
I still cannot find.
Thinking of the One
who was already living within me,
or the One I keep searching for.

Author’s Note

Termites Keep Moving…, is about a quiet, restless night where termites became a symbol of the slow, unseen forces that shape us through time, memory, grief, and expectations. This isn’t only about decay. It’s about choosing to keep moving, rewriting your own story, and searching for the self that may have been there all along.

I wrote this for anyone who has ever felt like a stranger in their own life, still refused to stop searching.