Flashes, of images, in last goodbye,
Before closing of a chapter or the eyes;
Yet ain’t conscious, whether unlocked truth,
Like animals multiplied, burning good wood.
An age ended & another began,
Sinusoidal; some joyous, some melancholy songs sang;
On recommendations, our graphs shined,
Laws kept altering with constant, variables, destined.
How far we came, yet, crawl, dilapidated,
Memories drove whilst consciousness abated;
Existence not vacation, nor someone we obliged,
An experiment or coincidence, yet to find.
In a journey no wrong if malleable is belief,
Species us, and, if another forged,
Then, mere a path followed more deeper deep. :)
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2022