That breaking point after you inhale and right before you exhale,
The time between the first rain drop hitting you, and the second.
That split second you miss during a blink.
The second you close your eyes during a sneeze.
These fragile seconds of life, which can alter your circumstance,
Is the reason for distraught and the reasons why we stand.
These instances; brief moments define who we are as a man.
Small segments of life uncomprehendible to us until the moment it is happening.
Yet once the moment is over, we don't remember.
In these moments, vigils start for memories worth remembering;
The structure being put out of a last dying ember.
Collectively, these moments sum to become dreams,
Dreams in which, we live life without missing these seconds.
Life is but a sentence, and the time spent in these instances are spaces;
The words are the phases of our life,
And the period, but our ending.
Commas are the struggles which we fight with,
Capitals are the ones we love,
Consonants are the moments we appreciate life,
Vowels are the times we wish to end it.
And again, the spaces are the moments we miss and take for granted.
We take for granted the minutes a day we spend in second intervals,
The hours a year we spend...
These seconds, minutes, and hours are what make us who we are.
Not who our friends are,
Not our belongings nor beliefs.
Not our family, caste, or occupation.
Who we are is represented in this collection of moments.
Do we roar when we sneeze?
Get startled on the first raindrop, and expect the next?
Do we blink too much, or are our eyes always aware?
And do we inhale and sit with it...
Hold it in until that breaking point comes...
And as it comes, do we still hold on,
With eyes wide open in a calm respectful way?
Do we panic or do we enjoy this moment of self awareness?
And do you then exhale slowly, taking your time in your relief?
Is every breath a gift, or a responsibility?...
