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Oh, my withered soul . . . no shower of rain to be expected . . .
Nor lovely musical voice to be heard . . .
Just a sea of pain & gloomy faces everywhere . . .
The beautiful flower which I used to smell . . .
Now is terribly surrounded by millions of thorns . . .
Days of youth have gone rapidly with no return . . .
Train of time passes quickly . . . waits no traveler . . .
Exactly like death excuses nobody at all . . .
I wonder!!! Really I wonder! What's up?
Is there any supernatural power to deliver my tormented soul & restore its innocent smile & make it gets up of its immortal drowsiness?
I'm waiting "Christ" . . . the savior of all tormented souls . . .
To reshape the map of universe in the way he sees properly.