Destiny etches our lives
and draws its pictures
we are but portraits
placed in its layout...
Strange are the ways of fate;
when all is seen and lived
when the path to be trod is decided
then it unravels one untravelled..
when all hopes and desires
are subjugated to rote
then, there flashes a dream
a vision unreachable...
its slave I choose not to be
to clear my eyes
and walk on unwavering
on footsteps traced ere...
A mirage have I seen
a chimera in my mind
but evanescent are these
and reality is to be...
In that bewitching hour
I saw the sun and moon meet
but forever will they be apart
and that is how it has been...
Not the progeny of our creators,
we are souls that emerge
out of the nothingness of being
and yet still live, by the writ...
Tailored thoughts, tutored emotions,
rites to be performed
the chore of breathing;
our act of living...
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