The slow effervescence
the vaporizing effect of the sadness
body losing itself to the thin air
slowly and surely
the mothball slowly giving it to the air
its existence and its frailty
and the deep sense of attachment
the ephemeral bond between the existence and frailty
the curled up pieces of the burning papers
with its bits and pieces
earmarking the days and the nights
with its ashen touch
like the sand in the water
submerged and yet to dissolve
you can still feel
the existence of the silt and the sediment
the gelid hands of the reality
pinches me with its
cold fingers and freezes my warm heart
this sacred ritual of dissatisfaction
and time eating time
when the body completes the sacred circle
and suddenly there comes a realization
an epiphany of the sorts
we were all a ball of illusion
soaked in the murky pulverized dust
of pain and angst
to begin with.
