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        I once built a home in desert. Every dust knew my name then one day life sprang up and then a thought dawn upon me: To make a garden in my courtyard. Steppe of grass stretched far off where tiny saplings lived side by side with me. An oasis was created. It never occurred to me that life is ephemeral and I am living beside a chasm. One day he seeped in through my gate that was left open for the birds that never flew. He invaded my home, took a grab of my throat and drove me out; I fell inside my abysmal dreams. He was strong while my frail body carried hefty dreams and together we were fragile. A thrust on my chest and my feet stood apart; he stomped the ground, it cracked. I had to let go when the crack grew wider and my feet went irresolute against the hold. When it rained, I saw the thick strokes pass touching my skin burning my eyes, and I kept falling inside the chasm. The man laughed from above and I kept falling. My home was invaded and my courtyard that had grown trees were burnt in high flames. They pleaded and bleated while I kept falling. I raised my hands to reach its reddening branches but It was late, they were uprooted; I had lost the battle, and my courtyard again became a desert. The oasis where the steppe of grass looked beautiful was now home to rodents. They dug holes such that it succumbed my home. I still fall and my hands are raised up in hope that I'll reach my home some day. Now we stand poles apart and I know I will not live to see my garden grow again. .

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