Of Dusts And Bones.....

the winds are
too strong
sands are carried
and you close
your eyes not to
turn blind amidst
the sandstorm.

the self is covered
with trappings,
a bonnet, a thick coat
and boots and hand gloves
and googles.

it is like that
when you protect yourself
too from the harsh
realities of your life
that happens
day to day.

do not believe that
it is good to be you.
we are never us
in these storms we
have to be
others in the trappings
of our survival.

do not believe in freedom,
lest you be carried
anywhere by the fury
of its traits, relentless
and impersonal,
and in the event of your
there is no record at
about what actually

our destinies do not
record about us.
our fates are written
on those palms
that leave no trace
except those bones
those dusts that
leave us too
with nothing behind.


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