every story seeks its end.
pages are exhausted in a hurry,
or what is lived or let to live,
is written fresh and anew!
with its elixir assimilated,
place gone, time mutilated!
while the ‘end’ awaits at a point
with all its uncertainty,

the process moves on,
with the processor,

within the whimsical panorama.
just like rivers
gliding to the same sea.

each alone, an escapee!
whether fast or slow,
in an ever-lasting flow…