Living, Not Existing!

 

 

I open my door- 

So mechanistically that my hands, 
Do not feel the keys anymore.

 

I step into a house filled-

With darkness so deep that you,
Feel like you are in a black hole.

 

I drop everything I have-

Lay inanimately on bed that makes me; 
Question – Am I living (or) existing?

 

I close my eyes, for respite, 

To fill my mind with you –

Restless soul feels revived,

A light lingers in my black hole.

Fingers starts to feel your fist,

While my eyes yearns for yours,

A sea of tranquility drowns me-

As your face and shadow fall on me,

Feeling it I smile after quite a while – 
Though you’re afar many a mile.

In these turbulent times of quarantine, 

My thoughts of you are umpteen,

Because, I feel like you are the key-
That opens the door to living, and not existing.

 

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