A pile of books fell,
Not because it was organised disorderly;
“A little more” of my expectation
From the rack I brought recently,
But could not sustain a day longer, broke.
Re-living the circumstance presently
“A little space” in my expectation
From existence to purpose lingered seemingly
A pile of me fell off existentialism.
Copyright© 2015 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
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