In the tomb of life, the acts of life play a variety of accomplished.
No moral behavior until romantic novelism is termed.
Changes in the amplitude of human conscience's current waves are really in turmoil.
Spewing overflows until the angels chuckle in wonder.
Where is the loss of the essence of life ...? Besalam be consumed by man ...
Why is it the savage that grows crusty?
Aiming at the ultimate purpose of life blowing.
Is there not any flutter to re-open the precepts.
Where does the retinal membrane usually refracts into majesty ...?
Where is the mind of the tiara that usually wins and protects the moral ...?
Has the human sacred conscience that God has imposed upon her ...?
Or even we who deliberately rocked the devil on the lap of life ...?
Really, we are ... !!!
