I am here, again
Restless and doubtful
I question my
existence, my identity, my spirit
Again
Am I just a dot on a
piece of paper?
A small,
inconsequential, defective dot
Or am I more than that?
A fly, maybe
The one that irritates you,
And you shoo it away every time
Am I a honeybee?
The one that scares you
But you still run after its nectar
Who am I, really?
A human being – am I one?
Am I the one, who feels superior to every other
creature on the planet?
Am I more influential than a dot, a fly, or a honeybee?
If yes, then why am I here, again?
Why do I feel feeble, exhausted, and powerless?
Was I running too fast, all this while?
Was I aiming too big, beyond my will?
Maybe it is time to close my eyes and rest
And ponder over my actions done in haste
Today
My expectations have dissolved me into nothingness
I feel nothing more than a dot on a piece of paper
A small,
inconsequential, defective dot
But one day, I will grow out of this emptiness
Into the world of my liking
Where I will march slowly, and expect less
I will be born right in the next phase
Until then, I pause
Within my dot, I rest
