Something that grow and grows and goes
Through doors and more and glows.
But in time it blows and draws,
The life out of your clothes.
That's when you sleep and snores
Till cold creeps, dry your bones.
And all you know went and gone.
All of life dead and drawn.
As Gandhi said: "Whatever you do in life will be insignificant." I guess it's true. But he also said: "it's important that we do it, because nobody else will." I know for a fact that this is true.
