By Josué Vargas

Sometimes it feels like, I’m but a channel,

not an actor in the play,

not a protagonist nor antagonist,

but more like a place,

a hallway, or a passage.

Yes, a living hallway, a witness collecting sights,

footprints, conversations, emotions.

Those who passed through me left a drop of their own

joy, their own sadness, and their own hopes and despairs.

I’m but a witness, a silent witness, unnoticed,

and they let their guard down in front of me,

not knowing that I’m a place,

yet I’m alive, sentient, and aware.

I always knew I don’t belong in anyone’s world,

but I failed to notice the reason is,

I belong to everyone’s world, as a silent place,

a witness of a million stories.

And a rather lonely story of my own.