Muse

Ashes of the past are in the air today,
Leaving an essence,making it dusted,blur and grey,again.
Words might bleed if I pour them down today but if I don't, they might just lose their significance forever.
Paths parted apart parallel to each other might still stay the same even after being unknown to each other.
With the lessons on one and perception on another, everything seems so different.
For a moment of peace,we are just a muse wrapped up and already defined by him still figuring out our own roots in a loop.
In a loop of logics and beliefs,
Existence and living,
Deaths and what's left after it and infinite puzzled answers to why do these questions arise?!
Most of my thoughts are said and ended up in a piece of paper.
Sometimes through words and sometimes through scribbles.
Many times I lose the papers but often these papers lose my thoughts in the void
and while looking at this emptiness I wonder
that torn papers overweighed with emotions are still better than the crumbled ones thrown away,empty yet so much could've been said.
Maybe the paper could've held it all at the edges or it could've torn apart on its own and partially burnt somewhere again.
But just the paper,not the muse it has.
And blow up in the air someday and turn the clouds grey, again.