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Poem
It is good to be a fool once in a while,
What an extraordinary feeling to be a fool!
To know nothing,
To know everything,
Yet not convincing your heart—The most brilliant buffoon,
Letting your heart float like a boat
Without an anchor 
In the middle of a lake illuminated by the half moon that looks like a piece fallen from something ethereal,
Vision yourself in that boat, dear reader,
Doing nothing but just letting that moon’s love 
Lurk on your lips
While you yearn earnestly 
With your eyes closed like the petals of a timid lotus,
I encourage you to be a fool with me. 
The river of reverie might reduce the roughness of abrasive reality of existence,
The vastness,
The long blank whiteness of life—
The 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s
Of age are indeed agitating,
Colorless at times,
There are rainbows too,
But mostly it's white, serene and quite like a pearl or a marble. 
Some people ensnare their hearts,
They think heart is some petty prisoner,
But when the boon of life comes to an end
The truth hits them in the chest
And the chains ensnaring the heart 
Come gushing down with a roar like a waterfall,
Sudden and loud. 
Chained hearts often become hoarse hazards,
Chained and always chasing,
But chasing what
You never know. 
Heart is a bird,
A brave one 
Like all birds,
But let me remind you something, dear reader,
Do you ever notice the birds looking at the sky and singing soft melodies,
The melodies they don't sing when they are soaring high in the sky?
Birds need a bower too to rest and rejuvenate,
They don't have to adorn an armour on their chiselled chest all the time,
It's just not natural,
It doesn't seem right,
So take my hand and come be a fool with me
Or just be a bird and fly freely.  
Your soul is nesting your heart,
Let down the gloomy guard,
Nurture the nest
And give it a rest.
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