Theory and practice probably come from two different worlds
A matured thought in an immature mind
Overwhelmed by the dots of life.
A game of chemistry in the brain wins it all
Thoughts are grounded as the eyes rain.
There is an erosion of thoughts in the drain.
Where is the hunger gone?
Where am I headed?
Why is there so much of void?
A feel of being soulless
It did not scold but just grew cold.
Times that tame and state
“Gulp the voice. Don’t be the noise.”
Don’t I stand the liberty to have a space that is in phase?
A wish sails undefined.
Everything is nullified when there is no harmony with your
soul.
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