This poem is inspired by the anonymity I enjoy in the crowded world outside... |
A last leaf falls, Touches a flowing brook, I feel the same way Flowing with, flowing along Flowing in the hordes But never a part of the mob, That pulls, pushes, prods me, Captivates my mind, Fills my thoughts, suffocates. I find solitude in the crowds, I find what I seek. No one knows me, my name. No one sees me though seeing my face. They keep going, I know not where. Each one to their own purple sunset, To their personal heartache, To their waiting wife, jealous husband, To the book they were reading, To kill, to cry, I know not. Each one going away, From a dull job, back to it in the morn, From nagging child, from lover, From the crowd that spoils their privacy, From the twilight, stealthy darkness. I find solitude is peace, I find what I seek. A last bird cries, The sun is gone. I know not where to go, I have no one to smile at. I crave this loud silence, Tranquil, serene, like cleansing rain, Falling in drops, strings, sheets, Merging with, merging along, Merging in everyone’s tears, Onto a rain of people moving on and on. Am I the crowd too? To someone else’s pain? Someone’s loneliness somewhere, Some other one’s joy? Am I the cold rain? In a a stranger’s thoughts? I find solitude is bliss, I find what I seek. The crowd pulsates again, Stirs me, breaks my trance, Snatches my reverie. I go home, my solitude stays, in the crowds. |