One never hears, and never eats
But, there is world inside one’s being
Which is moving, and going active
Sleeping in bed, with no voice
One is going to the whole-place
Shopping, walking and taking a tour
Who is talking without tongue?
Who is hearing without ear?
What a world of mystic life
In such a death, one has life
In passive mood, one is active
In a single room, one crosses the world
In a minute, one sees too many years
Such is silence, which gives a chance
Having a big-world so deep inside
Fixing things—what one missed in real-time
Bringing to an end—what one begins in real-life.
« return.