In the Search of My True Being

People who are destitute and sit
by the road and here and there,
Countless a day they got not
even a small dinner,
I went not to them
taking two steps further,
I listened not two words
from their mouth so far,
Such is the way I lose my true being
to my own path to inquire.

My mere words have no worth
and all end in a vain,
How come thou persuade such an wooden
to write about the world concern from his pen,
For all the restrictions I put
in my mind sunken,
the concern is chased by a pain.

Such is a small I am that
I lag behind all my function,
A small place I have not
in the corner last of the action,
Still I look forward the day
when the time will turn.

The day has glided by a far,
Is the time come not yet for her
If I could see my true being at par.