The sea of Here
the brine of Now
girting all islands
I find myself on
Washed up ashore
birth after births
unsure of the Why
running around in circles of How
Each wave receding
past the horizons
Eternity reaching out
the puny existence, of being me
Tiny little packets
packed up neat
Some hours, some weeks
pages torn off the book of Eternity
Call it a day
or any moment
Now and Here
are everywhere
The sentries of Time
guarding the Eternity
lest it gets pillaged
by the What that lures me
I think,
I imagine,
and I strive
to no end
Yet I can barely escape
The island of being Me
amid the countless
trying to be Somewhere else
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