Being a man of imperfect senses is unfortunate
The small threads of imperfect thoughts that give rise to senses is unfortunate
Knowledge of being invariably illusioned and yet can’t break out of it is unfortunate
Donning the dark baggage of mistakes that I know but with blurry vision is unfortunate
The shadow of guilt is the driver instead of vigor is unfortunate
The lost hard work which couldn’t find its way is unfortunate
All the unreturned feelings of thoughtful care is unfortunate
A deep impact of little steps which make small movement is unfortunate
It is unfortunate that struggle is dying of poor actions lead by impulsive decisions in a scattered soul
Steady decline of willful souls is unfortunate
If you and you got climbing but stopped by the limited mind and cage of own actions, is it unfortunate or fortunate?
All of us were imperfect came the arrangement that bound us together with the realization of a never reaching goal, is it fortunate or unfortunate?
unfolding 