A lid of an empty jar.

It`s a dark room with single candle lighting up the shadows of uncertain shapes on the ceiling. The window is wide open allowing in the last bearable breeze of the Indian summer nights. It gets darker wayyy earlier than it used to. And I contemplate my life much more often than I used to. The years I`ve spent trying to understand my inner-self and building the universe around me are now as useless as the hours I'm wasting now trying to find out what the hell is going on.
I`m a lid of an empty jar that`s stubbornly impossible to open.