Can nothing ask
Why it is there
If it’s nothing in the first place?

Are you flying or are you just a cloud?
Am I
Flying or
Am I
Just
A cloud?
Are you flying or am I just a cloud?

curiosity is like the color of the sun,
mysterious whispers between children.
the flavor of a beanboozle jelly bean,
the scent of foreign food wafting through the air.
walking through the thick, unknown fog,
excitement running through the mind.

It can be something, that I know,
it can be something that I remember.
For ages and for years, it's remain hidden.
So, how can I? Now? I can't do it.
Telling it would mean a revealing,
not doing it, would **** me.
How can I be so sure of that?
Tell me, I want to know!
How can I be at risk of my own,
when I am the sole saviour of myself?
The self is an illusion,
and existence can't be a guarantee.
To be or not to be, is a thought.
It can only be a keyhole.
The keyhole of my world,
to that one, of it.
This is merely a question for me.
But the answer would bring havoc to all.
I can't be so sure, if only I can be,
myself and reveal my inside to it.
It is that one thing that I shall be fearing,
and now making me die a little, inch by inch.
Existence was never a guarantee here,
so I am going without delivering an answer.
It would atleast, not make the rest suffer.
I am now the gateway, to that world.
It's coming right in front  of me.
The keyhole was never a doubt.
It's the world that I had not seen before.
It's the escaping, that I meant to have.

Curiosity killed the cat,
But maybe it wanted to die.

The eyes are threads of rivers
flown rapidly through skies

The mind, a straying cricket
sailing leaf-bound as it cries

if you are a poet,
come join me with your knowledge,
come touch the godly kingdom of deities,
both with perception and curiosity,
I will imbue a world of progression,
you will reach the highest peak,
touch me with your words and pain,
dress me with your cravings, more,
if you are a poet, show me the nature of your being, love,
show me the colours of your infinite meaning, pain,
words scattered by your soul, heart,
up in the accents of profound delight,
paradise of butterflies.

The past memories sit and stare
With nothing left to do, we begin to share
I say this, it replies with that
Deep down we both wish this was more than a chit chat

It showed me videos of things that already happened
I want to end its life, but it's there, crafting
From leaning on a wall about to crumble
With curiosity, I walk over, hoping it would show me it's humble

It was sharpening a knife, and I wonder "For what use?"
"Will it be another object that on myself I abuse?
I lose myself to my imagination,
To all my destructive behaviours that bring about surreal sensations

The pantheon of misplaced fears,
Whose walls were built on oppressed tears,
Has been well-guarded through the years,
Hiding from curious man’s ears.

There is no faith that threatens fears,
Afflicting the weakest with tears,
No faith like that withstands the years,
Silent in curious man’s ears.

Unchallenged faith the true faith fears,
To give compassion through the tears,
Where questions repeat through the years,
Faith needs curious eyes and ears.

The curious confront faith’s fears,
The curious fight through faith’s tears,
The curious give faithful years,
The curious give faith their ears.