These meadows are abandoned for miles, they never end
Quietude flows like rivers, solitude runs deep into the roots of the earth
In that calamity birthed of bedlam and tranquility, where the trees murmur nothing but silence
The bereavement of banishment , burdened with the thoughts of the soul
Silence spoke and I listened
She uttered of man
Softly but bashingly
Man is made with grace, but man is yet frugal
Man has casted diseases to the time of never, but still can’t live on forever
Man is courageous in mind and world, but eternally cowardly
Man is righteous, but yet a heathen
Man taketh world,but man also saves that world
The bliss that is to be human, the curse it is to be so
Man enslaves, yet Man too liberates
Man dreams with blood and sweat for immortality, but he forsakes today
Same Man is humble, but he is pretentious
In Silence, the heart saw where the eyes were blind
Man repudiates God, but he dares to be what he constantly rejects
Man love thyself, but the same abhors thyself
Man martyrs thousands for himself, same man martyrs himself for thousands
Man unmakes what he can’t make, chains what isn’t meant to be chained
Man is facile, but yet spiritual
Man is all, but man is nothing
In my Redeeming or Condemning Silence, I saw Man and in Man I saw Myself
Is man good or is he evil asketh the world?
Neither I say; he is but both
