Circle of Life

This flame of life never truly constant,

And starts to flicker at a gust of wind.

Higher intensity it blows more vulnerable to find,

Sustenance and it takes lesser than an instant

To turn to streak of smoke and vanish in thin air at a distant.

A strong sense of smell it leaves behind

To every heart consequently that

burnt in this grind,

Though invisible but quite repugnant.

It isn’t the entire existence an exciting experience,

We live in moments certain called climax.

A point where all threads are tied to form a knot quite tense,

And from here all spread in various directions to relax.

Holding on to those chunks of crucial occurrence,

Spending a full life circle by such moments influx