Existential crisis

Existential crisis

A big thank you to Heena for nominating me for the Blogger Recognition Award. Go check her blog out. I nominate Benefits with brain because of her lovely work. Click here for the rules : rules. Also, comment below if you’ve ever gone through an existential crisis. Enjoy!

Existential crisis.
One winter night,
Inside the folded pages of darkness and the moon,
On a terrace made of stone and expectations,
I lay under the stars,
As they looked down on me.
I gazed and felt
The cold wind’s hand on my speedbag face,
The curves of darkness and its nakedness,
The bare existence of my soul
that lay hidden inside the crumpled bed-sheets of this beautiful night.
I wondered and worried,
About things bigger than my eye-lashes and 11:11 wishes,
About things more important than betrayal and revenge,
About my mere existence.
Am I Chekhov’s gun?
(If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall,
then in the following one it should be fired.
If I exist,
I matter.)
Or am I a gun people keep hidden in drawers,
To mark their authority and ensure their security?
Are guns needed at all?
Am I even a gun?
What am I?
I looked for answers
Inside the folded pages of darkness and the moon.

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