Again, How do we live?

In a second, 

all could turn.

The process of becoming

appears in stages,

unplanned like a fog,

misty creature.

 

Drowned in self-melancholic

cut from the norm

in a second,

 the world changed,

I transformed,

The pandemic

 ushered our shifts.

 

The old tales of desire

of fantasy,

of simplicity

 and pureness

birthed from

the game of puzzle

 

To the object

that left home

to thorns,

has also

created hills of mares

in that same home

 

May we breathe in our desire,

may this era fulfill our becoming,

may we find a pleasant object.

 

On a day of self and meditations, I discover

 the totality of a long starvation,

 a foreshadow of uncertain tomorrow,

 the mind in unending caves of resolution.