A feeling so empty,
Like the interior of a time beaten sea shell,
Holding something and yet holding nothing,
For that which makes it whole is now a mirage,
An image built not in the mind,
For the mind is filled with things so dear at hand,
Neither is it formed on the bond of oneness,
But on wishes yet or never unfulfilled!
Like a serpent so did the robber slither cunningly,
Hither and tither it rolls around the soul,
For that which is seeks belongs to another,
Yet like the slave master taking the meaning out of the slaving soul,
It leaves while the body shivers in it counch,
Empty of stars like the sun-ruled daylight!
Thy shall not converts thy neighbors goods,
The holy book says,
But in the lust devoid of pity,
The intruder has converts the victims soul,
Beaten, shaken, shackled and haggled,
It dragged it off bit by bit,
Till there is nothing left for the helpless soul,
But a void as deep as sheol!
Now life's a mirage!
What I once owned is a wisp,
Like the thick fog before the heat of day,
It gets sucks up out of sight,
Like smoke before the caravan of a heavy wind,
It gets blown away to oblivion!
