From nothing you came,
and nothing you will be
once again.

All your joys
all your pains
are nothing but pretensions.
They would never remain.

And you too like them
you too are a part of this game.
Weaved out of the same nothingness,
if you look at it
everything is just the same.




Who could have thought that
silence could be so silent?
Who could?

For even thoughts,
they are so loud.
How can they ever convey
something as silent as silence?
How can they?

They always fail.
And so do their expressions.

And at best,
they just give a hope,
of something that exists without them.