Existence

If I met the gods , I’d ask them who I am?
Who was I meant to be and what did he have in mind when he sculpted me out of nothing but bare mud with his naked hands?
Am I a flower?
Blooming through spring and frozen through winters?
Am I the fire?
Intense to the core, bleeding passion and breathing desire ?
Am I the blue sky?
limited to vision but infinite to the soul?
Am I the ocean?
Deeply wild, yearning for sailors in ships storm- struck?
Am I the candle?
A small wick with a mighty shine?
I ask myself,”Who are you”?
Will you breathe in each moment as another birth,
Or will you just consider life because it draws you closer to death?
Will you regret choices and decisions?
Or rejoice in the melody of blessings envisioned?
Will you make life what you can make out of it or will you just be a chaos of what others deem fit?
Do you want to end with an obituary?
Or breathe worship and embody love’s monastery?
Do you want to wither away with your ashes?
Or will you rise like a Phoenix, in fury and flashes?

In the veiled depths of the pyramidical silence of my being,
I stir and I walk and I settle- like dust on a sunny afternoon, only visible when it soils the hands.
I hold a million sparkling rivers in my soul,
All of them bleed into the lake of my heart and it pulsates wildly.
My dreams fly free like a dandelion on loose and I chase them like a five-year old with a melting ice-cream of passions in my hand.
My palms are resting places of the desires I sweat,
My smile is a million laughters moulded into one- it is phenomenal and perceptive, reflective like an ocean- calm and curious, all the same.
In these unfathomable, bottomless alleys, I find my voice, my purpose and my anchor.
I speak, I perform and I begin to exist.

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