He stands still at the corner and watches
With eyes unfiltered by dogmas of the world
They come and go in their hundreds
Oblivion blinding them from the beauty about
He judges not, and speaks little
The masses accuse him of inactivity-based psychobabble
Vexed that he may question their puny beliefs
And shed some light on the ingrained folly
He longs to tell the world what he knows
That time is an illusion that haunts the swift
That events and sensations are impersonal
And happiness not something to seek outside oneself
He wishes that they would see
That we are souls having a go at humanity
That the universe is limitless and ours to tap into
And spirituality the only thing that will our gaping holes fill
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