In search of a book without words,
I dare acquaintance with unknowable,
I like to visit a silent evening,
than a phonic exuberance of herd!
Celebration all around, for what?
To hide the tiresome, fragmented, painful life.
I know a learned-serious creature,
Who is wanderer of sky,
But ignorant about own self.
Who knows too much,
But feel too little.
O champion of words,
A saint of rationality,
For transmission of worldly skills,
You tear apart the solitary life of trees.
For little selfish gain,
You play with the destiny of all species.
What? You care for knowledge?
For what? Utility and power?
What power is endurable?
Against the creative art of nature?
O exaggerated spirit,
Are you living wisely?
Rather carrying mountains of ego,
And myth of progress, development, and rationality?
O self-proclaimed enlightened spirit!
Where are love and care,
In your language of morals and justice?
O professional creature, a technician, a nay-sayer,
You own everything?
At what cost? For exchange of life!
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