He has exploited most of nature… and his very own…
Yet his own nature remains unknown?
The potential spurt suppressed
The latent burst repressed
He is thus is depressed…
He will talk to the medical wise…
Listens to the religious unwise…
To Desperately try and rise
And pray that life
hands him a better dice..
Yet does he seldom realize
That silence is the key…
A catalyst is what he can possibly be…
His potential is a block of ice
Dissolved its very nice
Adding flavour to the tea..
His potential is that of musk
Which he carries from dawn to dusk
Sharing the fragrance is paradise
For mankind, its indeed nice…
His potential is of sight..
Gazing into it is pure delight…
To illumine a flight
Into the dark and mystic nights..
His potential is to listen
To many a fear that may have risen
From many a realm deep within
And let them gently
transform into a nice rhythm
His potential is a presence
This Life is of essence
To a sense of what he can experience
He has risen not, but fallen
Into the Ocean of Silence
IC -To all the wonderful photographers on pexels.com and pixabay.com