Graphite in your memory book fades; the writing pokes and strikes you down With memories that you left as blades The actual time is a good conductor Graphite approves and bleeds Without the remorse of painful tragedies and shortened sleeps The soul, still hungry to feel something real and natural Craving for abyss when it is already engraved into your soul And yet, you seek chicken soup for your eyes Painted by truthful lies or lies full of truth Life has just blinked at your soul and you reached Nirvana(moksha) Life is yet to be and you have lived All of it in those few strokes of Graphite