The great spears that befalls us in loving
Are born from the wombs of our wishing to tell
Labouring in torment is born by those that fail or are not willing
to
Put on the shoes of the hunters
Emotional attachments; great emotional attachments are but
Born in taking the route of finding someone close to the soul
Great relief is found in a heart that was listened to
Great curse lies in not being listened to
I had depths as deeper than none other
I have those depths
And these are not depths to be tossed and
Pulled around only because
they are fervent
My soul abhors being bereft of what it does not know
The greatest freedom for a man is when he knows where he belongs
These rites are not understood by the deer
And it is in these times when I crave for a seer
Mama, look into the lines of my palms
Touch my hands
Search my heart and tell of my place in love
If you can, then strip off emotions from my soul for I no longer
Want to feel because masses don’t want to feel;
I mean feeling for the other
A loving soul longs only to be listened to
Dear, why have you locked all the entrances
