When Is It? Poem by Yekaterina Bezpalaya

I ask myself sometimes,

When it is you grew up so fast?

When did you begin to think there is always something more about each thing?

When did you believe that, at least for now, there is nothing more right now?

How did you believe that something out there is waiting?

Will stay waiting?

For however long you choose you stay behind?

And that all everything else in your life will still move without you,

Pushing ahead by time?

When did you begin to understand that everyday is a single side of a page?

That your life is divided into chapters?

And unified by a single common wish?

How is that you understood that a new chapter can only begin when you finally gain wisdom either about yourself, your life or the world?

That this is how you keep moving?

Living like a book?

How did you?

When did you?

When did I.