Myriads thronged seclusions to proclaim passion,
Endless breath, of Life words acts and desires,
Weary mortals seeking hopes,
From troubled vanities of passing vanities,
Countless hearts, seekers of all kinds,
From all religions of man's invention.
From idolatry, traditionalism,
Cultures of hoods and voods
To Christianity, Islam, Maoism, Judaism,
Shintoism, Eckanker, Atheism, Moralism,
And nameless isms of unequal translations
All in throng seeking truth in isms here and more
One, and only one knows the truth
He lives in hearts of human seekers
He lives.
Penny dropped circular clocks on carved out emblematic wisdom cones. Be careful if it rains coal dust as radioactive drones, mobile phones, and teapots too could all gather to form lines of imperialism. How rather interesting it is to count the snot flung out of the window. It often lands in a rather interesting pattern do you not think? And waiting for parcels is akin to waiting for a slug or a snail to travel sixteen times down and up a highway. Ok then. Great. Floors fathom first flinging fleeces. And the traditionalism is always at the number two position on a compass compressed clock canister. And one hour forty-five minutes in a pressure cooker is quite often akin to racing up a right angled hill. A salted mist is a skiing zone. Where lots of whales and dolphins play and make snowmen. And a snow go e is neither a pickled onion nor a jester playing a harpsichord. Ok then. That is the latest from the p y q. Z