When I Am Reborn, I Want It Just Like This #WriteAPageADay #950

I will not ask for more,
no gilded chariots of change,
no rerouted rivers of fate,
no fresh fingerprints pressed into my skin.
Let me spill from the same celestial mold—
let me arrive again in the same breath,
a soft exhale of déjà vu,
a perfect echo of the imperfect past.

I want the rain exactly as it was—
where it bruised the earth and kissed my shoulders,
where it drummed against the tin roofs
and left the streets aching like a forgotten song.
Let it run down my hair in the same rivulets,
slipping through my fingers like unclaimed prayers.
Let it taste of longing, as it always has.
Let it be the rain that made me pause mid-stride,
tilting my face toward the sky,
unsure whether to laugh or to cry.

Let it flood the streets in a way that forces
strangers to help one another across.
Let it remind me that life is a sequence
of small rescues and unspoken kindnesses.

I want the silence exactly as it was—
the weight of it pressing into my bones,
the language of absence, unaltered, unfiltered,
folding itself around my name
like the hush before a confession.
Let it hover over my childhood nights,
curling in the corners of my room,
an invisible guardian of unfinished dreams.

Let it arrive in pauses between heartbeats,
in the spaces between words unsaid.
Let it hold me gently on nights when even
the wind forgets to whisper.
Let it be the same silence that was never empty,
only waiting, only breathing.

I want my mother’s voice the same—
the melody of scoldings and lullabies,
the sharp edges of her laughter,
the pause between her sentences,
where love settled like dust on an old photograph.
Let her sigh exactly as she did,
with the weight of centuries she never lived.

Let her fingers trace the same path
through my tangled hair.
Let her hands hold my face
in the same quiet way they always did,
as if memorizing something she already knew by heart.
Let her prayers, murmured in half-sleep,
still wrap around me like invisible armor.

I want the wind to carry me the same way—
not as a whisper, not as a roar,
but as a reckless dance between knowing and not knowing,
as a lover that never lingers but always returns,
tangling my thoughts into knots
only the night can untie.

Let it pull at my clothes like an impatient child,
let it remind me to run without knowing where,
let it steal my words only to return them
when I need them most.

I want my hands the same—
the same callouses, the same lines,
the same restless drumming against tables,
the same trembling when holding something fragile,
or something holy,
or something indistinguishable between the two.

Let them reach for things they cannot hold,
let them gather warmth from fleeting moments,
let them learn that some things are meant
to slip through,
but that doesn’t mean they were never real.

Let the hunger come back unchanged—
the hunger for words, for the unfathomable,
for the taste of mangoes in June,
for the sharp salt of the sea on my lips,
for books that smell of forgotten time,
for hands that tremble under the weight of a shared secret,
for a love that burns slow,
never in flames, only in embers.

Let it be the same hunger that made me chase
ghosts down empty hallways.
The same hunger that kept me up at night,
staring at the ceiling, asking the stars
questions they never answered.

I want my mistakes the same—
each bruise, each fall, each poorly written letter,
each "what if" that unraveled into a quiet surrender.
Let me lose myself in the same labyrinth,
let me chase ghosts down the same corridors,
let me carve my name into the same soft spaces of the universe,
knowing they will fade,
and still doing it anyway.

Let me touch the same fire
and forget that it burns.
Let me love recklessly,
as if hearts were not made of glass.
Let me hold onto things too tightly
before learning how to let go.

I want to love the same people, in the same way—
with the same reckless tenderness,
with the same stitched-together patience,
with the same maddening, infuriating,
earth-shaking, heart-breaking,
all-consuming devotion.

Let their names remain carved into my ribs.
Let their laughter be the same constellation
I navigate by, again and again.

Let me meet them the same way—
unexpectedly, like finding a secret door
in a house I thought I knew.
Let our conversations unfurl
with the same electric familiarity,
as if we had only been apart for a breath.

Let our goodbyes be just as reluctant,
just as heavy with unsaid words.

I do not want a new beginning—
I want the same life,
the same sunrises bleeding into familiar horizons,
the same moon winking from the same sky,
the same stories, the same heartbreaks,
the same unfinished symphonies.

Let me return, not as a stranger,
but as a repetition, a refrain,
a whisper carried by the wind,
saying, again, again, again.

Let my feet find the same roads,
let my heart recognize the same aches.
Let me stumble upon the same moments of wonder,
the same quiet miracles,
the same unexplainable joys.

And if I must change,
let it be only in the way a river
deepens its banks but never forgets
the path it once carved.

Let me know love,
exactly as I have known it—
imperfect, messy, boundless.

Let me wake up each day,
even in another life,
and whisper to the morning,

"I have been here before. And I would not have it any other way."

#Rebirth #EternalEcho #LifeUnchanged #PoeticJourney #SameLove #TimelessSoul #Poetry #Verse