Will not come in the small print of the letter
There are many sorrows and will not come in an envelope We are not Majouns, nor do we look like Farhad We will not come to any plain sight This cannot happen in a short time
There are so many pains that will not be summed up If you have any good news about him, tell him We will not come to any other place
As you have taken sick leave It seems clear that they will not come to the funeral.
A person will be tired from poor health, he will be uncomfortable, but he will not spend several hours a week exercising and eating regularly.
He will hate the low salary all his life, but he will not bother for half an hour every day to learn a new skill. He will look for means and money for the educational certificate, but he will not spend a few minutes on the book every day, nor will he attend the class in order to get the certificate correctly.
- get
- He will pray and hope for social change, but he will not make any practical effort for it.
- Everything in life has a price, just make a difference in the way you decide it. If you are competing with someone, then if you want to get ahead of them, then you will at least put in as much effort as they do, so this is your zero point. Well, you will start from this place, if your rival only hopes to change his life, and you actually work towards it, then naturally you will see the result.
Everyone is busy
Everyone is busy in this world understand. ravelling here there everywhere with each but every care.
We live in that world where movement dictates. ur every action our every debate.
Sometimes begs the question where are we all going?
Is there anything that we share anymore?
Have we become just faceless doors. That open and close with aimless repose. A kind of involuntary muse that we choose.
Come what may has we hurriedly rush along our way. Prehaps missing the greater details in this bigger picture.
If we only could but open our eyes stop for a minute Be still look up to the skies to contemplate upon. Why we are the ones where everyone is busy?
Poem by Jenny taborda