The bright calm blue yawns ahead of Haru's perception
as far as the eye could see
(Haru's eyes are the same shade of blue as the ocean,
a thought that calms him in a way most find weird)
with the tremendous ease no mortal being could imitate,
something only found without the borders nature provides;
the ocean exists indefinitely, inexorably
with the power and tranquility
Haru knows he lacks, and in all likelihood
the energy of youth will be his tradeoff
for the awe-inspiring wisdom of age.
Haru should be more afraid of aging,
according to stereotypes of teens and athletes:
he is seventeen and a mere blip
on the radar of the universe
but more than a traipsing saunter toward adulthood.
"How do you savor the present
when the future barrels toward you
lapping at your feet like an ocean wave?"
Haru asks in a dazed whisper;
the swim club, of course, weighs in because
that's what they do,
that's who they are as people.
Nagisa laughs in that way he always does
when Haru tries to philosophize:
an octave too high,
strangely barking in tone but
with enough warmth to mask
the obvious anxiety of having to ponder something
so mature;
Makoto goes silent, freezing in his tracks, as if thinking of
the future is something simply too much to bear;
Rei, unlike quiet Makoto, becomes loud in his manic energy
in his desire to understand
the breadth and depth of the question,
and he becomes dizzy in the process;
Haru's head swim's at the reactions of his friends
and he's relieved that Gou isn't here
because Haru's stressed processing
that maybe the world doesn't have a simple solution.
what kind of existential crisis
is this, Haru wonders,
and maybe he'll appreciate his life now
before it slips from his fingers.