Humans. Born to communicate.
From infancy to death. Being here to speak.
But to whom?
Who can listen to words coming from the mist of irrational deeds?
We all speak. We all listen.
And yet we keep on. Still trying to find out.
In a cosmos born in silence, who is supposed to listen?
In a cosmos full of words. Who is supposed to speak?
Poetic Philosophy 
Leave a comment