He Who Knows Nothing, Feels Everything By Rado Gatchalian In the shadow I hear my soul creeping like a ghost whose beginning is from the end; If I shall surrender to darkness — am i still worthy to shine,  though flickering, in the universe? How can the masterpiece complete the cycle of birth and death  when all that is required is a small shining stone in a delicate piece called heart? But how shall I accomplish any merit when all that is required is a losing self whose purpose  is only to find? As the elders of generation from ancient to modern: there is only one wisdom possessed — he who knows nothing, feels everything. More than everything is nothing. For me to see is to open and close and open again the gate where the entry is to depart.