Existence

Deep in the eternity of mind,
A rhythmic call continues.
Bits of life by-gone,
Spark diluting the reality.
The strings without-consciousness,
Play on un-composed, unsung.
Life goes on performing the routines,
In the midst of tangibles and intangibles.
There you go torn, camouflaging 
The nebula of fulfillment.
The bondage of I’s and My’s churns, 
Squeezing to the state of solitude.
Infinite is the spectrum,
That is drawn in your cerebrum,
Coloured, variated, criss-crossed,
Neo, de-nova, unblocked.
Is it the age or bondage,
That tends us to alienate.
Spiritualism or the obsessive God,
Comes in-process at last.

Image (c) Reshot.com

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