It’s my quarter-century plus one.

At the moment I realized I can’t use my fingers to count the time I’ve been here anymore. But, here I am, still standing with wide open eyes, looking for reasons of my existence.

It’s my hour.

At the time I know for 1/4 century plus one something has brought me here. It has led me to the understanding of being here, the existence of me. At last It has uncovered some that I’ve seen even felt. It is undefined, yet it is colorful and amazing though the thing is so unpredictable. That is something so called life.

It’s my day.

For days I’ve agreed that there’s no point of being here except for always wishing the best for anyone surrounding and myself, that there’s no end to pray, and that there’s no reason to stop being so grateful.

It’s the year, quarter-century plus one; another chance given to write other meaningful stories of being here.

–kacabiru–