When a little dice rolls,
The mighty fall.
A mere speck of dust,
We are, that's all.
Like strings on a puppet,
Pulled up to dance.
When the curtain drops,
There's no second chance.
Why fight, why feud?
For what this mindless
strife?
Many would kill
To live our small life.
Ashes don't speak,
Their stories are told.
In the past tense,
For generations to hold.
At the end of the road,
Everything loses meaning.
Like slipping sands of
time,
You've left us
yearning.
How do we let go?
In us, your memories are
rife.
Hanging on to its shards,
Such is the frailty of
life.
--For Periamma
