Cracked Lands

Have never questioned death, or its occurrence;

Natural or unnatural,

Persistently believing that this classification is imaginary,

Mostly, out of the habit of reasoning.

Your existence is associated with unmentionable phenomenon

Like the tangled, untangled threads,

Quoted as bonds.

The ones you create selflessly and egoistically,

Persistently ignoring of how silently they define you.

The color palette could never possibly contain the right shades;

You painted the walls the shades you loved,

Tinctured your boundaries, the same shade,

Puncturing cosmos;

with your own ‘self’, your strange obsession for ‘self’ and;

your strange yet beautiful talent of ignorance, every time, when its about self, stroked down, but others.

We never questioned the right decisions

Or , never reasoned the wrong.

Argumentatively, Death has been defined by vacuum, numbness, blood or epidemic

And not by the irruption of self obsession and selfishness

Death is when you couldn’t put someone else before you.

Hence, narrowing your horizons of existence,

and becoming;

The pale black dot in the universe.