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  • Akash

Scrutinized Christmas

Updated: Sep 7, 2021

I wonder what beingness

has in store for me.

The futile me

of burdened existence.

The frozen wind 

cuts across my cheeks and

limp stray-dogs 

raise confused eyes at my mess 

and the rising tendrils of smoke

in my hand.

I'd stop. I stop

just if I knew

what there is for me

naked blatant burning ice

under my back

or a stable foot

on soft ground.

One divine answer

and I'd stop.

I need impossiblity to break

just for once.

I believe only then

would my mind stop reeking

from queries and blame-games,

bitter accusations

and hateful scrutinizes

of being ignorant

of my make-believe purpose.

And for all I know of the moment:

It's just me dying

with the cold Christmas night.

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