For what is life, but a twisting blow?
What is love, but a longing soul?
What is right, but not the wrong?
What is fear, but a heavy stone?
What is calm, but the after storm?
What is obvious, but remains unknown?
What have we missed, now long gone?
Who likes to sing a dying song?
For what is Man, but a new iPhone?
What is hope but the most wanted one?
What is future, but the world undone?
What is matter but the lustful whole?
Who plays the strings
Of so many lost springs,
Eager to find peace,
Amidst hate speech,
With self-denial full-on?
What are we, this I ask indeed, with the utmost urge and sincerity, but acted-out human entities eager to find pleasure in pushing others through our own empty holes?