Poem: Done?

Done.


Will we ever be done?
Really?
Do we ever reach a point we feel okay to say our byes?
Will it be as though we reached our destination and now close off our chapter, little did we cry?
Or might it be that we can finally feel like we are enough? We did all we can and embrace life, knowing that it’s tough.

Done.
Is it possible to be in a state of fulfillment while having dreams eat away at your subconscious at all?
How can we ever feel like we are done when nature itself has not yet reached this point on its own?
How can we ever experience being done when there is always the next thing to come?
And it’s right around the corner, one click away. One almost completely automatic trigger of neurons firing for your finger to tap a like or swipe a certain side that way.

Or maybe, we are only done, really, when our time has come.
When there is nothing left to say.
And then the fire goes out till it extinguishes and goes away.
It is sad because that time will most certainly see the day.
Yet, I will never stop, and pray, ‘Not until we are done,’ that this will come our way.

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