Living

Dust

And the mirror broke.
[Source – Pixabay]

Living in a quiet and slow dust storm, I wonder if I am moving at all. Just as I approach the wall, it becomes dust and so does everything else.

What makes me thirsty? Is it the sound of future, my desire to see it or the knowledge of nothing? Sliding, swaying, fumbling I reach a well and quench my thirst happily.

Often a friend guides me, though, who borrows memories from whom isn’t clear to me as of now. But I am sure of my useless attempts to gather the dust after it is all gone.

Standing still I come across a sea of mirrors, I choose one and take the place in front of it. I tell myself I am ready to take the dive, the mirror repeats my words and then without a sound or any movement, I turn into dust.


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On Which Side Are You?

Running so fast
There is no time to fall
Trying to reach
A place, a destination for all
Kindly be quick
Hurry! Hurry! You can’t be late
Don’t you think!
Everyone is passing the same gate
Coins should click
And dry dotes should make noise
Wise witty trick
Panting and puffing recovering your poise
Celebrate the end
And then come again to mend
While those who are not participating
Are Living