Nothing special

you could ask many things of God at night when the sky glistend by stars. you could wonder through and swim deeper the secret of your wide sea and get the hidden treasure of the mind as God knowes tall and made the things of the Earth. it was a world as puzzled as maze, but as clear as the Creator made it.

in a thought it was useless. when the memory recalls over it and the mind recieved it in open hole, it was the way the fortune must have been when the day had gone and the night of loneliness had falen on cretures still cannot go on with the things of the past. it was an empty world because no person had yet replaced bricks to build a home or tied the heart to make a bond or picked the pieces of lonesome heart in the shadow of time. but its not a fair world. it held the thought and aches of past and withdrawn not inside the heart.

you were alone when you asked and wondered, no one cared. this is so wherever you are if it is night and the stars glisten in a distance made from the Earth. what you ask has no ready answers but your own, and what you feel is nothing except to yourself. the world is there, and you are here and these are the only pole, the only realities.

you asks, but who answers? you're in pain but who cares. is it someone you know? and do they says would mend this heart or pick the broken pieces? think of this questions, put your hand on your pocket and stare at the night sky and the greetings of its every twinkle. the questions are your questions too.