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To The Thinker


Words are missed most when there is noise:

The undeniable sounds of suffering-

Are like ants marching all over the head.

The silence of the sweet hours that are slept by;

Make the recipe of an enthusiastic pie,

And when we take the essence from this

The soul wakes up after a preposterous dream.

So think clearly the words of peace

Or your treacherous lips may beg and scream.

© 2020 Sannyasi Raja