On life and its vagaries


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At this moment,

I should die-

To be born again.


Everything I learned-

Should‘ve no meaning now.

(I need to be born new.)


The Past……

Has to be a deed done,

And a pain forgotten.

(And it should be a

 Grisly morgue

One detests frequenting.)


Yet my every breath

Springs from an engine

That’s ancient.


My every step

Stems from a path

That’s ever inching forth.


My very thoughts surge

Out of feeble and,

Studied lines.


Indeed I die every moment,


 By staying alive In the past. ….


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