Life does not ask for permission—
it bursts forth, wild and unrefined,
like weeds through cracked concrete.
It doesn’t wait for clarity,
but moves—forward & backward,
sometimes in spirals.
There are no lines to color within,
no script to follow,
just the raw rhythm of breath,
the echo of a heartbeat.
Life is the wind that carries
both whispers and storms,
the sea that gives and takes
without reason or remorse.
It is the space between moments,
the silence that hums with possibility,
the falling, the rising,
the living but beyond sparks.
M K Mishra
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