I am a cracked shell in your current.
I am a wilted plant in your garden.
I am an off-key note in your symphony.
Without me will you even care?
You will search with closed eyes,
A bright shadow hung over as you ‘mourn.’
You won’t create ragu spaghetti or a warm cottage for me,
I will be left out in the colorless cold.
Your all-knowing heart won't know me,
The current will keep running,
The plants will still grow,
And your golden symphony will at last be in harmony.
Tell me what will you do God when I die?
Photo: Aryan Nair