a poem

Days
Weeks
my months
even year
are all my breath-length long
My dawn
the onset of inhale
my dusk
those moments before
my life lays strewn
in between
What joys what sorrows
For I know not why am I
where to am bound
For all I have harvested
is the art
that pause
that let go
Just To Be.

Photo Singh TejInder

 

Image may contain: 1 person

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