Is there nothing left to say?
Because so many things are shown to us through the path we live, it may be valid to wonder about the idleness of our silence. Is there nothing left to say? Is there nothing left to see? There is everything out there where thought believes, and there's everything inside, rotting (as Baudelaire said of course) while we try to polish the being that can't be defined by words; not even by that word some people call soul.