A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.


There'll be a time,
It comes to all
When just like Alice,
I recall,
Tiny things will loom up large,
Enormity appear so small,
And leaving this one life behind,
Where tunnel vision
Turned us blind,
We'll wonder why we did ignore
The questions that our spirit asks,
Choosing not to stand in awe
For favour of much lesser tasks,
Never seeing what Alice saw,
A human being,
In wonderland.

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