Re: Silent & reading...
Every line in this thread poses a big question
A book of poetry, a book philosophy,
And stands in front of me, my ignorance,
An absolute obtuseness.
Where should I start from,
Where may I stop.
Whenever I am quiet,
My soul speaks to me it whispers,
Go and find yourself,
In the darkness of night,
Before the darkness of grave,
Ruffling sounds of the flaps,
Angel of death looms around,
Oh slave of the time,
Let’s get going.
Truth is ever hidden to me,
I have eyes,
Have no sight,
My eyes are dry but,
I want to cry,
A few pearls of gratification,
I am alive,
I am still alive.