The tables have turned

As the air hangs heavy with the burden of death

And the strings slip out of our hands

Once mighty, colossal egos,

Now slowly turning to sand.

Illusions of majesty lie shattered and strewn

Mirroring our mortal reality

Reminding us, each moment

Of our effortless disposability.

Neither the Royal nor the beggar

Is forever here to stay

Mere specks on the dance of time

It’s like the tables have turned in a day.

By Priya D’Silva


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One thought on “The tables have turned

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