I knew not what You've wanted;
As to what You've given, I know a bit.
To You nothing did I give;
Just to take are my hands open.
Those with human base, You have sent,
With a little expectation, for certain.
What that wish is, I knew not; and I did not want to know it;
I merely weave a web of vain contentions.
Scarce is the time, but in negligence has it passed;
At the moment opportune, cognition[1] has not wakened.
My days have gone by, neglecting my own self;
Today I count the stars, seated mid a desert.
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Choosing not to think about oneself enhances happiness, but forgetting one's Self only leads to regret.
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