Who wants a way?
Who knows the way?
Who has the way?
The way is like an empty vessel
That yet may be drawn from
Without ever needing to be filled.
It is bottomless; the very progenitor of all things in the world.
In it all sharpness is blunted,
All dust smoothed.
It is like a deep pool that never dries.
Was it too the child of something else? We cannot tell.
But as a substanceless image it existed before the ancestor.
You are afraid of moving, you are afraid of choosing
You are afraid of your dreams,
You hope they don’t ruin everything.
You are afraid of your own people you hope they don’t betray you.
What heart says,
What mind speaks
Why heart is afraid when mind is not,
Why mind is afraid when heart is not.
The fight will never stop
The fight between the heart and the mind
The winner is same every time
World most mysterious story is the story of your life
The story where there is only one hero and one villain
Not every time you win, not every time you need to win
the only time you can lose is when you give up on your dream or goal.
your life is a book where you can’t skip a single page, you have to turn each and every page to read your palm lines
Are you the moon or a mere blot on it?
Are you the ash, or fire?
You want somebody to tell you who you really are,
why you are, what you are.
on whose shoulder should you cry
if you make a mistake?
For whom should you look in the paths
if you lose the address (of your destination)?
Would you tell the truth or remain silent?
would you open your heart, or break it?
would you cross the limits, or just stop?
would you be stubborn, or just leave it?
Who arose the question?
Who will give the answer?