Cherish the Mundane

They ask me why I stay,
why these streets hold my steps,  
why my days fold together  
like waves that never rush, never roar.

You wonder how I breathe this stillness,  
wake to mornings that echo themselves,  
find joy in things so small  
as they slip through your grasp unnoticed.  

But you don’t see it - do you?  
You don’t feel the hum beneath the quiet,  
the grace that waits in the mundane,  
patient as the earth turning underfoot.  

I wake to sunlight spilling gold on my cheek,  
to the kettle’s low murmur,  
to the scent of rain-soaked soil.  
to the coldness of September mornings
to how life unfolds and folds and repeat.

At dusk, shadows stretch and soften;  
the day exhales its last light.  
These are not small things - no -
these are not insignificant threads.  

You call them nothing because 
you’ve never stopped - 
never paused long enough to see.
How my world isn’t built on fireworks or grandeur;  
it is held together by moments unnamed,  
fragile as breath 
but stronger than stone.  

People chase stars that burn too fast;  
I choose to catch fireflies that lingers longer in my palms.
They call my life boring - boring! -
but what do we know about life, after all?  

I don’t need mountains to climb,  
or a crowd to cheer my name.  
The steady rhythm of time is enough -
the ache of work well done,  
the sound of laughter falling like Guava leaves.

One day, the world will forget,  
my name turned to a mere whisper.
Even so, I’ll still be here,
Sitting in my 9 square meter throne -
listening to the cicadas' cries.

So ask me again why I stay.  
This isn’t settling, or merely existing.
For me - and for me strictly -
It is called living.

Copyright © Dranreb Carbungco | Year Posted 2025

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