transitory existence

It’s hard to give meaning to the thoughts which come for a moment and leave an everlasting impression.
It’s hard to pen down the images which flash for a second but remain etched in the memory forever.
It’s hard to find words when everything seems so blank.
And it’s really not easy to do justice with the words when their meaning won’t ever find a refuge.
I know that everything is transitory.
Realizing this makes it even more difficult.
It seems worthless to try when I see my transitory existence surrounded by the vultures all around.
They won’t leave me no matter how hard I try.
They won’t ever let the things change for once and for all.
But how can I be deceitful to the immortal soul?
How can I pretend knowing that I am a human being?
My thoughts define my existence.
My words stare at me for expression.
They don’t really know about my being helpless and all alone.
I try hard to hide.
But it’s really getting too complicated.
The pigs are growing day by day.
And the dogs have all always been too faithful to their masters.
And then there is always a flock of sheep to suffer and whimper.
There is no place for me in this farm.
I am merely a spectator at my own funeral.