Solitude in the Crowds

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.