A little too much to talk

We want to be quiet. Say to mine-self, let's be quiet and try to be quiet. But does that ever stops us from talking. It seems there's a little too many ways of talking. So, the talking never stops. Now a days everybody's talking and everybody's listening. Now we ask mine-self, what does that has to do with us(?)! in wonder!!!! So what everybody's talking! Let them talk but let us be quiet! But the thought, it just a thought, like so many other thoughts, one thought among unimaginably many thoughts, so it remains a thought, and we never really stop from being talking. Because this thought of being quiet has no significance at all among all those uncountably many thoughts. So, the world is living inside of us it seems, the whole universe is living inside of us. We cannot ignore the resemblence that this living universe has with the universe outside. They are both the same. Yogic or Stoic, where are the happinesses has gone where have the peace gone. It's all just empty words, empty thoughts, non of it has any significance. There's no peace on the inside nor on the outside to have the courage to give any weight to these thoughts or the words. We don't buy words anymore, we only buy junks because we all have become junkies. We have it all and at the same time nothing at all.

What are you spreading, happiness or sadness? Why do you ask? Why should it matter what I am spreading? You might say for the betterment of the human race. Oh okay! Then what happened to the junkies(?), is my question.

Yes, the peace, it has come only to disappear again. Now the eyes are shining bright only to become dry again. It a terbulant universe, the one on the inside, and the bandwidth of the spectras seems infinite, so many colors and the terbulance, every instance is a new color, only there's the lack of a single color that you might stare into in admire.

Also, they never end.