A waterfall is beautiful, undoubtedly,
Whether small or big as the Angel itself.
But worms don’t fall with beauty;
Only ’cause the silk has taken its privilege.
I was once considered sensible,
A tall, thin man with a beard of wisdom;
Seems like clocks had something else in mind.
A knower, a believer were my synonyms,
But all that’s left with me is the stranger silence.
My own reflection has developed anonymity,
And demarcated me from the only world that I know.
It all came down,
When she said, ‘You never knew me.’