It is tiring to seek and bring back the forsaken moments

Some journey cannot be planned while being true to yourself

Time has transformed the soul, quite different from earlier reflections

Unrecognizable to the forlorn eyes; now comfortable with the melancholy

Breathing that familiar air, now only few breaths can survive

This world has a consistency of a different nature of emotions

Changes have unravelled only the superficial worries

Seeking the directions from unaware journeyers is a senseless pursuit

Directions only exist in two far apart souls, in different languages


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