Memories


Time drips away

Like little drops of monsoon

One less wet leaf

.

Misguides me

Like the mirages of summer

One more singed twig

.

Heaves my dreams

Like the distant chills of winter

One less quivering green

.

I take one more step into the fray

Oblivion is all I see

Yet I still walk that way

.

.

Anxiety about the future and death for a human is inevitable. We know we walk towards it every day. Our time and parts of us are left behind bit by bit, leaf by leaf.
Disturbing as the thought might be, unbearable to some, not thinking about it and hiding in our fog, I believe, is like committing philosophical suicide.

More often than not we close our eyes and fabricate our own philosophies to tackle oblivion. It’s too hard to face the truth. Every culture weaves their own stories. Heaven and hell, rebirths, afterlife in some form or the other. Whatever the truth may be; all we know for sure is that we live through memories of people who we touched in our lives. The crumbs- of you, that you left behind.

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