Change is constant.

How we did get here might be different.

Yet still, we are brought to this ever-evolving dimension.

I was brought here too, through the common path.

Shortly after my pull into the new world I knew not, I heared voices.

Voices of shouts of success.

Atleast that is what I think.

And the voice of a calming scream.

A scream of pain and of joy.

And tears, only of what a mother would give.

But my tiny brain was immature to determine the myriad of cluttered noise and faces.

However, my soft heart could tell that I have made my first drift.

A drift from a motherly belly to the outer skirts.

A drift from a known old world into an unknown one.

A world of uncertainty

A world of pure light and true darkness.


My transition was complete when I roared my pitchy tunes along with the fresh flow of innocent tears.

No one told me, but I should have carried on with my young cry.

For the world I am welcomed to is the one accustomed to the path of drifting slides.

Either smooth or rough, I am meant to go through.

And there is a combination of both in the changing lines of life’s pages.


From the darkness of my mother’s inner into the light of the world; was only the begining.

From her suckle.

To my crawl.

From my crawl, to my topple; along with my words in mumble.

And from my mumbles and fruitful topples, I stood then later said my first true words; gibberish, maybe.

That was a drift that brought smiles to the faces of those around.

So they say.


My see of the world was colours and pictures.

I was too fascinated to begin asking the repeated questions of, “what’s next?.”

From when I was a babe; taught right and wrong.

Good and bad.

And to when I knew exactly how to cover up the strangest lie with an ‘amour of honesty’.

I continue to grow older and older.

Each second; each minute; everyday; all the months; a year.

And so it goes on.

Every one of those cycles whether in reverse, had stripes of either a joyful drift or a sorrowful one.


As if a fall to the ground each time I attempted to walk wasn’t enough; even as a toddler.

But that always proves my certainty.

Certainty in the drift.

The drift in time on the wait in patience.

How patient I was, laid on the simple fact of growing up into the age of wisdom and the perception of self dependency.

None of these is an easy goal.

But when the going gets stiffer, I evolve.

How youthful I’ve become, drifting from sand-play to pen-write is just a plus.

Life is a trick and none of its tricks gets old.

I was tricked into laughter when I was a suckling.

Now, I’m young and I have to play tricks in life to make me laugh.

But later, in the future, others will play tricks on me; hoping we will share a mutual laugh.


Growing old is as easy as waiting for the next  year.

And in a year, every single event of change carries a huge weight.

The weight of drift in ignorance and into intelligence.

Fading myself away from certain life rules into the ones I make, is just a shade of the entire picture.

Even though I have learned to grow myself from being a baby, the drift of time between then and my youth; nothing came easy.


I am to be successful.

And I ask myself, “how?”

But after I succeed, I will ask again, “what’s next?”

That’s when a gorgeous life request rears its head.

Soon, I ‘ll be coupled.

But that is just a plus too.

Willingly, soon after, we will multiply.

And that will be a major drift.

What’s next after this is a bit easy.

I start to play tricks on them and they; on me

Till I can’t take it no more, especially with a stick in hand.

Yet again, I ask the inevitable question of, “what’s next?”.

And the answer is as easy as raising your head to the son.

But after my final drift.

After that drift where my spirit and soul are far from my feeble body, I’ll still have one last question unanswered yet.

What’s next??



Asford psalms

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