When a person's soul gets tired, his body falls asleep

Maybe the hard part just wasn't for me.

I have to admit that to myself.

Maybe fawning on easy was hanging around my neck like a stigma.

Who knows, maybe that's why I have neck pain.

There are difficult people, they choose hard.

They are great people.

For example:

Is it easy to topple the mountain of kaf because,

They may say, "Be there, O sublime difficulty, sink to the ground, miserable easy."

Or:

They may say that your anger is pleasant or your grace is pleasant.

It is not enough, they also live.

It is difficult to live.

It is difficult to live hard.

Well, I guess I couldn't choose the hard one.

I draped ease over me like a thick blanket or a dark night.

Maybe that's why I'm out of breath or can't see my way.

And again, by making the literature of the business, I guess I took the easy way out.

Because, if writing does not reflect from living, it sits on your back by being ingots on the pages.

Yes, I also unfairly complain about back pain.

I timidly claim to know about most things.

I also know that knowledge alone is not enough, on the contrary, when no action is taken, a person is likened to a donkey loaded with books.

Yes, but not enough.

When knowing is not being, knowledge is stuck in his throat and constantly demands his right.

The most painful thing is curses.

If a person curses his knowledge, he will most likely be like me.

I feel stuck between reality and utopian dreams.

In a way, floundering in purgatory.

He has suffered from dilemmas.

I describe my identity as stumbled upon.

My mood, on the other hand, is wrapped in chameleoning and spiraling lines that change shape like the individuals in a large square, blurring and fading, sometimes pessimistic, sometimes optimistic, sometimes chaotic and intricate moods.

My emotions are undergoing metamorphosis. Sometimes they act in such a rush that I can't keep up with their pace.

Regardless, I actually feel tired.

I think this would be the clearest sentence that could describe me: Tired.

Maybe he's in love, maybe he's crazy, maybe he's not himself, maybe he's struggling with delusions.

But mostly tired.

When a person's soul is tired, physical sleep does not benefit him.

When the metaphysics loses its rhythm and harmony and becomes an arrhythmic, when the soul gets tired and the heart becomes a companion, physics becomes helpless.

When metaphysics loses its health, physics is also affected.

Because physics is under the yoke of metaphysics.

I say my metaphysics aches,

I'm getting ripped from fiber every time.

Say words that will heal me.

Don't tell me tales of one thousand and one nights.

I say my metaphysics hurts.

You are offering me artificial drugs.

I am in spiritual pain.

I say read a few verses to me, say a few prophetic words, pray sincerely.

Sadra offer remedies that will heal.

For example, give me an indispensable parental prayer.

Enter the heart of a friend of God, melt your self in his glamorous eye.

Stroke the head of an orphan, hold the hand of a poor person, and respect an elder.

Please tell me.

Otherwise, I will evaporate in the confusion of depressions.

Don't ever stop.

To stop is to die.

Come on,

Let's cry a little with you.