കർണ്ണന്റെ രാഷ്ട്രീയം

 WHAT IF?

"What if?"

What if we are nothing but memories?

Not our own, but of someone else?

A life already lived, a past already worn.

'Then whose fears do we carry?" I wonder.

Whose trembling hands shape our days?

Whose grief stains our nights?

"We relive their anxieties," he whispered,

"Their cries, their weeping, their fearful sighs."

Their heartbreaks echo like sad melodies.

"And their joy?" I asked, searching his eyes.

"Yes, their joy too," he nodded, It blooms in our chests like ancient flowers,

"But never their dreams.

"Why not?" I breathed, waiting.

"Perhaps dreams belong only to the living," he said,

"And we...

We are only memories."