Words will mourn the futile journey

Regretting the planetary wanderings

Depleted of their true essence and soul

To express adulterated feelings

Words, in stoic existence, accept fate

Infused with a frail concoction

Resembling the faint hue of the ink

Any memoir written, will become obscure

None of the feelings those were true 

Etched like weak silhouettes, lonely presence

Testimony of a futile journey and fatigue

There’s no Grace or soul’s providence

With time, they will fade away from memory©

8 thoughts on “Fate

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