Claim/ Reclaim

At times, life has too many stories to tell..

And that's when the ink often dries up, even before it could touch itself, on the page. Waiting in the mind.

At the next waiting, it doesn't even leave a blotch.

At times' such, his hand sighs in distress.. and gives up.. each time. Every time. Paralysed. 

Paralysed again, he gives up. Destiny, his thoughts to him, ebb.

But a time comes. Sometime later in the Night. or Later in the Day. Or at a later evening.

A time comes.

It ticks. And the hand writes. The writer peers. Curious, to know what the hand has written. What is in the destiny?

Claim/Reclaim. It says.

And that's the alert.

There's enough trigger.

There's enough death.

There's enough violence.

These are, for, the last breaths.

And the dying man, gasps again.

The words flow. And I shall write again.