Trace

I got rid of myself I wish to get into yourself From me to you, on the path while I browse I could see only the modes of living. But where am I? I am not visible to myself. My views do not find me; In general, views do not help us to have visions. Only views, only paths... No visions, no objects... No visions for views, no destinations to paths. Human lives continue as mere sounds; music still to be heard. Human lives stay as mere languages; poetry yet to be found. Here it is mere living; Where is sheer life? Where is pure life? Where is clear life? Will answers be found for these questions? Or will questions only meet questions? Do our lives answer less questions? Are the answers needed to face questions? We must face answers; we must trace ourselves.