Inside my very birth
my death exists.
Within my distance sleeps
My innocent nearness.
In my desire to be reborn
I continuously embrace death
My revenge-seeking regenerated-cells
Get vitiated as a new day approaches.
At times I wonder about the one
and His ways to reverse the continuity
after my exhausted liberated end.
Yet it is completely true that
amongst us, none is responsible
for our present indifferent
restless birth.
Inside this exciting and fearful nothingness
Lies our bounded existence.
The essence of which we cannot know
Yet we plan, we dream, and we live our lives.
Everyday brings about uncountable deaths.
Death from the closeness of my child
Death as I was disjointed from my mother's womb.
Death when I was separated from a loving embrace.

My timid world surrounds me with dreams and death
as they keep holding hands with creation and birth, unceasingly