I am a universe, so vast, yet so atomic.
I live within me and the me is nought. My age is the past, the present and the future. I carry the ever travelling time but I am a burden to it.
The God is in me and me in Him. And there is the shadow also.
I change often but even as the time that’s circular as season, I find my old self looking to the future through my present.
There’s a philosophy to my living and the philosophy is formlessness.
My form? I am definite but I dissolve also. I merge with the elements I live with.
To understand I, the time of a life could be spent. Perhaps, I can describe better to the eyes of a mind.
I am a mystery. Like the curiosity to know why the universe exists, endless more will catch you before you get yourself to know me. Only when you are tired to death, shall you discover that I was a reflection of you in form, existing as a fragile whisper to the silent bloom of time.
My friend, till when shall you travel before you see us as a mystic.