Randomness Of Thoughts

it is a rush,
there is no time anymore,
been busy,
lots of books piling up to read,
lots of papers to write,
many people to please and pamper,
all pleasing tiger,
losing all teeth,
resigned
to the comforts of society's pleasures,
yet still has to keep on
doing
what is it?
no direction, this wind,
no wave, is this sea,
words without assuming any meaning,
flowing
water seeking its own
level, and
why are you following?

same here
same there
you &
I,

IN THIS VOID.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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