Sunday, June 12, 2016

Festival of Insignificance

Last drops of this night, flowing through this vein
Thinking of something and yet saying something else
Heart yearns for your words even after we say ‘goodbye’
And as I walk back home, trying to remember things unsaid



Who knows when all this begins or when all this ends
No one can know the concrete shape of things
When the hand shivers before the knife strikes the heart
Love was all that can be in shivering of your hand

All through our lives, we keep running, trying to give meaning
How simple it seems, yet it is not
To define things and yet to keep them unexplained

What is this life, nothing but festival of insignificance 

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