How do I make sense of world
When you are not around
Everything is strange
Nothing works in its proper way
Morning doesn’t come on time
Night falls asleep
Breathing becomes endless
Dreams become rare
Life becomes a foolish habit
Living become a bad joke
Sitting, standing and all overt gestures
All become mundane
When I speak to the world
Words become banal
Truth becomes a fiction
Fiction becomes a prosaic art
Love become a passion
Need becomes its face
Hope, its guardian
Destiny endless wait
In your absence, my love
Nothing remains same
I become a stranger
To my own name
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