Bundles Of Memories


Don’t look down,
The dizzying heights…
Crushed glass amidst the pale snow
Might you realise where you really are.

The plain of Maya
The pain of being
Like herbs in the life soup —

We are accustomed to like
The unliked acquaintances
And acquire bad habits;
Afraid of promises
Horrified of heights.

We are.
Are we not?
Sad people
Clutching bundles of memories.
Experiences lost to the hourglass,
That we call life.
Past. Present. Future….

Artwork: Fabio Giampietro


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