Timelines are all a matter of illusion
They do not Exist
But as specks of time in individual minds
They stay to live on.
People, attachments, memories
Are delusions of destiny
That engage in the moments of existence
But get buried in the grains of time.
Toys fall on the way
And get forgotten in sand
Creating fairies that do not last
Toys, though lost, teach lesions of detachments
And stay on representations
Of all that is innately true.
And as steps are taken
Unconsciously, Circles are formed
Because experiences leave footsteps
Which only get darkened by the same feet
And patterns though exist
