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