Recursive loops of path emerging

The same feelings are surging.

We keep on following the patterns.

Full filling the prophecy that each one of us desire.

To get us away from this reckoning fire.

We are in dire need of prayers.

That would make us everlasting.

Like passing trails of days and nights.

But that too comes with seasons of changes.

We always want to remain the same.

Like a young budding bloom of daisy.

But that too withers.

We always ignore the shivers.

Of our conscious.

It was always a curse.

But some people drink it.

To suspend their illusions and spit it.

Like an antidote we sip it.

By cleansing our senses.

It demolishes bricks of the wicked.

It too has it's own significance.

It has it's own taste and frangnance.

Which fosters the ultimate truth.

That we find in our inevitable gloom.