In a world devoid of life,
however hard i strive,
i move two steps into the past,
for my every inch i crawl.
My steps are weak,
my existance langour,
hardly walked a mile though,
feel have crossed the desert,
with burning eyes-scanning the horizon,
for an oasis.
And realized that life is an errand.
where the roads always go-
from pine to pines.
And what wastes away is life.
No comments:
Post a Comment