Life is like that still standing bare hill
Waiting for someone to visit
Resting in deep peace though dusty, rusty, and ugly
However, pure of heart, pure by nature
No wonder, what people seek
The outer beauty, flabbergasting glimmerness,
But the impunities;
Whithering that hill down day by day
weakening its strength moment by moment,
but still standing still, sad and silent...
Not reckoning what comes to it..
what destroys it, what hinders its presence
Rather outstretching its length, its arm
with love and care
to embrace
the worst of its enemies
the best of its friends
the unjustful world
that has made it
old, feeble and isolated
from rest of the world.
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