I stared into the tiny screen on my hand

That screen is a whole world

With endless possibilities

There comes a cold cruel line

Striking across my tiny screen

It says

“15 minutes”

Then my universe

Implodes into one singularity of possibility

“Turn left in 200 meters”

“Keep going”

“You’ve arrived”

But if I let go of my tiny screen

I might see that the world is even bigger

Than that screen that I think is a whole world.

I would see that fresh rose growing

At the corner that I was planned to miss

That new goose family raising their children

At the canal that I was told to leave behind

That young lad I would have loved to greet

On his balcony that I was doomed to overlook

How dreadful is the weight of that tiny screen,

that burden of certainty.

In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.