What is wide
In this whole world,
Where there is no peace
Even in the smallest piece,
We wake up from our dreams,
To find ourselves in the drain.
What we do is to strive hard and try,
At the end, all we do is to cry.
Our tears is meaningless,
As they tear all means apart.
We sleep everyday thinking we are insane,
And we wake everyday feeling the same.
We found solace,
In lacing up our shoes,
Trekking the whole place,
In search of a plate.
We begged for peace,
And we could only gather our pieces
What is the worldly life,
Except the enjoyment of delusion? (Q 57:20)