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