What we are

We are the pain, and we are the hope. We are the dream, and we are the bitter awakening. We are the casket of our neighbor joy and the drain it goes to waste through. We are a moment of light-heartedness and the one hundred years of solitude. We are the beacon light and the anchorage and also the wind shaking and pushing adrift our small and fragile boats. We are what could have been, and we are what will never be. We are all that remains and all that is forever lost. We are other people's memory, and we are what we have sent in the dark. We are patience and wait, disillusion and certainty. We are the satisfied expectation, and the never received satisfaction. All in all, we are. We just are. In our neighbors, if not in ourselves.