Perils Of Monotony

Should I write about the same stars I watch? 

Or about the questions that I dodge? 

About the books that no longer have the same impact

Or about the destiny that I've accepted as a fact. 

Shall I repeatedly mention the colourful past, 

Or boring blended hues that the sunsets cast. 

Oceans have the same rusty smell, 

No different winds in the mountain dwell. 

Wars don't give me jitters anymore, 

Neither I feel the butterflies flutter from the love next door. 

Wild cats of curiosity are replaced by experience

And ignorance is guarded by illusionary dogs of knowledge.

Enthralling words lure me into the same tedium thoughts.

Meaning of life,the entropy seems to be lost. 

What do I live for? If not monotony 

What do I breathe for? If not cacophony. 

Even if the bird of thought takes a flight, 

It comes home by the night. 

What do I write when all stories have been told? 

How do I ink the canvas when there is no new art to unfold...