
I used to write poems as a kid
Now I am grown up
There is no time to read
Nothing to inspire me
I used to be terrified that I will die
Now I just live…

Learning.
New things.
Old things.
Things we have forgotten.
Things that we never could know that they would be.
Filling our minds with more things.
Day by day reaching…
What?
Reaching what?
Why did we ever start this journey?
Without knowing where we go.
Ignoring the only thing we did.
If knowledge is the journey.
Does that make ignorance our home sweet home?

Weird.
How can one see what sees?
How can we envision visions?
Could the light ever imagine light?
Could the wise know wisdom?
Can you look at the world around you?
(No living thing can ever know what we do not see)
All is dead.
A dark secret lurks in the beauty of the sea.
Whenever I cried, it was for things that were totally unknown to me…