By: Lara Charmaine Lagorra
If you’re reading this beneath the sea of torches along the road,
know these paths once carried four years of my footsteps and stories untold,
Hickory smoke clings to my clothes, mingling with sizzling food,
From the dense crowds and the cold August night that blows.
Music spills from every corner—voices, cheers, laughter,
Turning the campus into a world of its own.
Friends walked beside me, shoulders brushing,
conversations stretching long after the crowds thinned.
Each step sounding strangely near,
Soon, these torches will glow for someone else’s footsteps,
–another generation will make these grounds their own.
A stranger tracing familiar pages of a story I once lived,
carrying its laughter, its lights, its nights away.
You never know which ordinary night will become the one you long to find,
when the years have moved ahead and left the past behind.
Until the next—sa sunod na hagit, mag-Hibalag ta
