Grateful soul

Blessed are we with hearts thirsty to be
one and lovely for the world to see.
Cursed are our fingers that count papers to know
our worth and to feed the curious ones below.
Happy that the tireless sunrise returns forever
and glad that the rains ruin our oddly timed shower.
Hinged are our souls with the fulcrum of lives
and we are one another existing through each other’s eyes.
Little did we thank our Gods for the same
and little did we know about this precarious game.
Tired or pumped up our beings can be,
there is no more discomfort to stay offbeat from the sea.
The cosmic tether thriving through all our veins
are nothing but time and love crossing over our reign.
Reflections and murmurs of our ever long ghosts
echo over the giant existential hosts.
And we are our Gods and we are our death
till what we all see takes our precious last breath.