Bare footed on the bare desert.
Running forward to the silent sand-storm
Which can take my breath in the clean dust.
Yes, I always before my end.
Leaving footprints,
A sign of my unfulfilled desires.
A disastrous me and my unintended attempts.
Was taking me closer to the end.
The burning instinct of fulfillment,
Was the last thing, I asked for.
And I died before my death.
And was burned on the pyre of my instinct.
-© copy right Vishal Singh
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