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A Mundane Existence

By Vipul Sehgal


Existing through my days of life,

Seconds and minutes and hours and days,

Turning the cogs and pushing the wheel,

Moving the cart of breaths and beats,

Oblivious to the troubles of the way.

Rolling further down, further on,

Living a circle of it's own;

Day after night, night after day;

I went on without a song,

Without a thrill, without a say.



A pretentious laughter now and then,

Observe and learn, morph and blend,

Never a smile, nary a sigh,

Dried the lake that held all sense.

The perennial river which once flowed

with drops of thoughts and waves of life,

Has come to a sudden queer quiet;

Leaving at it's end an eternal void,

a kooky peace, sheer and stoic.

I continue on... of thoughts devoid.


Multitudes countless now cease to be

a dream forlorn in a dream of yore.

Their lore by day, songs at night,

imitating the ruse of dark and light,

wafted through my ears; untried.

A forlorn strand of abandoned thought,

drifts hither and thither to clasp;

exasperated; gives up to pry.

And hence I'm left to fate for ends,

I do not live... I cannot die.


By Vipul Sehgal



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