That stroll, on the shores
Of uncountable, fleeting moments
We stream through
Lost in life, in making a living
Those days that slip away
Like sand in the fist
Those transient dents
That are leveled as waves of reality
Splash on them.
Those many untaken roads
Unspoken words
Skipped through existence
Muffled through resistance
To those very moments,
Those days, those roads and words
Here's an epitaph of regret
Topped by the bouquet of a two minute silence.
Pic Courtesy - Chandra Elango
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