A word of existence
shrinks within crumbs thrown
as the little fingers get unfolded
and unfold the hidden line.
Nouns and adjectives grasp all
None of the verbs shown.
It will show when breaths are earned
and it will,
when pores get burned.
But what about those red crumbs
who have always had vibrant hues known
Will they seek to glorify
or deny the trap?
They have always been dealing
in fragrant odes,
where love and death both bloom.
Will they now take birth in elegies too?
A word of persistence
keeps floating on crumbs thrown
as a new sheet refuses to fold,
decides to be known
and the colors around a colorless,
They close in, shrinking it further
as color itself is snatching and occupying.
They too join the song.