If it is soil,I can hold it till that moment,untill it falls completely out of my hand,leaving my palm empty-handed..for I know that soil shall make it way out.The remains shall be dirt,filth and some stubborn marks on my hand.So,is life to us,whatever we choose to hold,it may go..vanishing into oblivion,like never ever was reality a bliss.That hurts.
If something vital just misplace,the pain is excruciating,indelible.If we,hypothetically catch starts into our palms,would that too go?So what shall stay?Who shall stay?
So many countless nights,I pondered to reckon the truth,to gulp the veracity,no-one matters after the life is yours.The life shall be your way of dealing.No one shall soothe your worris?They do only for couple of days or hours,but does it makes you ultimate happy?
We need to identify the composed,intact version of ourselves,I guess..for our own soul can never leave us unlike the soil or stars untill it’s time for us to take a last breath.Sigh!
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