Is everything a passenger?

It is said that there is a distance of two steps but age is shortened. The distance is not shortened. We are constantly moving. Walk in the morning, walk in the evening, travel in dreams. 

We are the ones who are on the journey with us. When the destination is found, the destination is on the journey. This universe is also a traveler. Everything is on the way. 

Everything is on the journey. Unknown travel, unknown traveler, unfamiliar destinations.

No being can always be in one place. Travel is travel. The journey begins with a journey and ends with a new journey. Travel is helpless in the face of distance.

This journey has been going on for centuries and centuries. This journey cannot be cut short, just as the journey cannot be fixed by falling out of sight. Never. This journey is directionless and directionless, but it is a journey of infinite direction and unlimited direction.

The universe is moving with us. The sun, moon, stars, planets, galaxies, solar systems and even space are all involved in this journey. All of them are in rotation. Circulation in circulation, movement in motion, travel in travel. 

Where do we go?

Moments are traveling. Time is always on the move. Are we poor at home? Where do we go? Where do we come from The idea changes. The idea goes away. 

The breath is in the journey, it comes, it goes. There is blood in the veins, in the arteries. The sight is a traveler. Scenes and backgrounds are travelers.

What is this? Why is Since when How long is it?

We carry our burdens. Our burdens, the weight of others, where do we end up? All we know is that we are in a hurry. We are in a hurry. We are in a hurry. We have to go now, but where? 

I just don't know. We are very busy. Travel is a must. It is not necessary to know the purpose of the journey.

We are wondering what we have to do in the end. The journey is eating away at the passengers. The path swallows the travelers. 

The destinations swallow the paths and forget the path itself. It is not known who gave us the rotations but the slave rotations. What does the traveling nature want from us? What can we give to the poor? What color will unlimited travel bring?

As soon as the birds fly away, the atmosphere does not end. The fish swim away, the sea doesn't end. How long has this journey been? 

Neither the start nor the top is understood.

The drops become red and the red breaks into drops, but no one knows.

Buses, vehicles, space and air vehicles, planes, air and sea are all in motion. People are coming and going. Goodbye to tears, welcome with joy.

  

Passengers who go and travelers who send. All are passengers, slow-moving, fast-moving. Travel is always travel.

One of them snatched the other's luggage. He picked it up, ran away, threw it away and left on an unknown journey empty-handed. He had to throw things away, so why snatch them? 

The fast-paced princes who conquered lands, countries, estates, finally disappeared in the foothills of the earth, became silent, forgot. Like they never were.

Caravan after caravan people came. Keep doing great deeds on this earth. Keep working hard. Keep killing each other, but then the same silence, the same futility, the same unmarked destinations, the same anonymous end.

What is this fame? What is this pride? What is this crown? What is this army? What is this movement of existence? What is this constant torment of travel? There is an earthquake in every heart.

 Everyone is running. The king and the donkey are running away. Maybe there is a danger. Who is at risk from whom? Whose life is in danger? Risk of death Life is ending, but life does not end. We die. Since when are we dying? 

But we are alive. How long are we alive? I don't know. We are running to find out, not out of fear of death, to find out the secret of what it is all about.

We have set out to catch the beautiful butterflies of desires and meaningless desires. Butterflies fly away and we fly away from each other. We get lost in the wilderness. Butterflies are delusional. Sometimes we run towards the past, sometimes towards the future. 

Sometimes we run inside ourselves, sometimes we run away from ourselves and go out to conquer space.

We give up what we get. Desire, new achievement, new aspiration, new destination, new chaos is our destiny. What is this destiny? 

The whip of destiny is driving us away. We live between fear and passion. This mill is grinding us. Hobby is not obtained. Fear is not visible. We just run Travel Promising to return, we leave. If we have to come back, why do we have to go. We give each other a destination of waiting. Waiting is the name of that distance. Who can hope to be cut? 

We tend to square measure on a journey that has without stopping.

There is an illusory hope that maybe at the next turn we will know everything, but the journey of breathing is over, the journey of hope remains. We stopped thinking, just running. Marathon Race in which all time participant. However long has this race been going on?

I own my predecessor's chair and the one who comes after me is waiting for my chair. The chair disappears and the chairs remain empty. 

Leaders die, nations live. but, till when? Where are the old nations, the old leaders, the old civilizations, the old populations? "In history"?

We are all getting old. We have taken the memories and will leave the memories. Every old civilization was new in time, and every new civilization is the old civilization of the age to come. 

Old house and new house is basically only one house. Old sorrows and new sorrows are the same. Old tears and new ones are the same. The old man and the new man are one man. Old times and new times are the same thing. 

The sun is the same, the sunlight is the same, the moon is the same and the moon is the same, the journey is the same, the end is the same, but everything has changed. 

Everything has changed. Who says everything has changed?

The journey does not end. Change and transformation do not change. The ego of the traveler is established. Man wants to know the secret of travel. The traveler considers his helplessness. He examines the compulsions, but does not give up the journey. 

Man asks the secret of his journey from the depths of the sea. The giant temple Ganges (dumb) mountains cry at the question of man. The river sheds tears. The winds are screaming to give up this question. 

The answer is no. Man has gone to space to ask what is this journey? The space is wide. Man's words are lost in space. The question remains, there is no answer.

The traveler is not disappointed. He asks the way, but the way does not give way to his question. He calls the destinations. Destinations are his companions, but they do not answer this question.

 Passengers hug each other and cry that the road is lost. The road is moving along. The passengers are unaware.

The traveler remembers, "Oh, the one who has taken me on long journeys, the one who has given me a never-ending search, tell me the purpose of the search." But there is a senate. The journey continues. The caravans get tired, but the journey continues. 

No one sympathizes with anyone on this journey. The emaciated being is left and the journey continues. Springs keep boiling from the ground. This journey is very long and very short. It is a distance of two steps and this distance has to be covered for a lifetime. 

Everything happens between being and not being. We live with our children and then go to our elders. The ones we say goodbye to will welcome us. It's all amazing. 

If that's the case, then what is this mess of interest? What is all this speed? What is this evolution? What is this knowledge and literature? What is this ambition? What is this gain and loss? What are these battles of good and evil? What is this face-to-face heat market? Man asks, thinks, suffers, wakes up, cries, asks for an answer to his question. If the sender is not found on the journey, then where will the answerer be found?

What the journey is? Who made me a traveler?

It is not a question of what the journey is, what the outcome is. The thing to think about is who made me a traveler? Who is walking with me? Who brings me from childhood to youth and from youth to old age? Who gave me the taste of knowledge?

Who is the one who calls me; and who is the one who calls me? He gives the journey, He is the traveling companion, He is the destination, He is the sign of the destination. It was the same before my trip and it will be the same after me.

The brain does not have the answer to my question. The mind can tell what it is, but the heart can tell why it is, and faith can tell who made it. 

The only way to escape the torment of the question is for us to believe in the power and the One who sustained the mountains and made the river flow. He who sends rain from the clouds and grows plants from the earth. 

He who illuminated the sun and darkened the night. He Who made the heavens without pillars, and Who made birds fly. He who created me gave me speech and sight. who is that? That's all. 

The question and the answer is same. I am by His command, and I am not by His will. Whatever it is, there is prostration for it; of submission and reverence!