So fleeting

this thing, time

Like particles, living

on dusty shelves

Settled, not knowing

Only a gust away

from disarray

So fretful

this time, life

Like ants, crawling

on marbled tiles

Marching, unswayed

Only a sweep away

from disarray

So fitful

this life, unearthed

Like a seed, growing

sickening, aging

Toiling, unrelenting

Thinking it’ll never end

Until it ends

Take a breath.

— Lynette Teo

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