How certain is this uncertainity, a cloud meant to create
blossoms washes away the shelter.
A sound, a clap of suddenness, a vision gone blind,
a numb in the flow of blood, a relief to one’s pain,
a pain to another’s loss.
The juggling from this breath to that breath
skips how alive our soul is.
A moment not rendered
to the thought of circle ending each of its dot.
The battle with warriors beside us, leaving them shattered
in a gust of heavy exhale.
Death, the pride of exhaustion,
petty thievery of wishes and prayers, installs dagger on
growing roots and crumbles every inch
like burning incense ending itself. Only leaving the fra-