These thoughts are but dots , scattered randomly on the parchment , of the network in my brain , with pulses being visual traction of the quill.
Connecting the dots is all people say is to life , like an onion - peel after peel , they reveal themselves , like the stars in the sky.
You might miss them some day , the sky may be cloudy , but they will be shimmering all the way through , serene and calm with their energy only known to them.
The sages and the saints lead a life dedicated to them ,aren't they astronomers and astrologers too , and no matter how hard we try to escape it , but aren't we them in our own righteous ways?
Trying to interpret them , whatever they are ; stars , thoughts , sounds, visuals , symphonies.
The uncouncious.
