There is a sky full of stars,
And my body walks underneath, a collection of atoms with a synchrony to adhere to.
The road is filled, trees galore on either sides
Flickering streetlights long for the end of the day's end
A car passes by swiftly, music pervading this silent night
The juxtaposition of this peaceful city of stars against its ever-tense dwellers amuses me
Every little mouse stuck inside the wheel chants, "There is a purpose written for us"
Then why is all I can make sense of, is that this mindless sprint is endless?
Sure, I have a purpose now,
But what if it morphs into a tiny step in a countless to come?
Should I hold onto this comfort of purpose,
Or let go and embrace the chaos of perpetual pursuits?
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
