We know so little,
so little, almost nothing
and this is only truth,
when and from where?
from the fissure of infinity
and the unreel of time,
we wander on dreamy travels,
and the truth a flowing shadow
and it call us,
but the call still is not heard,
nor does the caller reveal his face.
and people voicelessly love and die,
because the truth dosen’t speak
but dance in the harmony of unity.
Dawn meet the light,
and the twillight the moon
all are mirages
on labyrinth of mind,
ever since time waking.
Do you think that our existence
makes any difference
to this vast universe?
Did we just happen
or were we meant to happen?
In the universal scheme of things,
we stand nowhere.
We may manage to survive in it,
but we have no control upon it,
except in the little space and time
that we create for ourselves.
We are little possibilities
in the endless probabilities of the universe.