Loneliness

Loneliness

Standing in a shaky public bus,

There are very few things that seem just,

The world with SO many people,

Living in agony or peace, fright and pain,
Living on the cream and carmel, above the crust
Or the dirt collected below the sewer rust.

Curses and spite, aimed at all these humans,

Are a sign, a revelation,
Of the frustration in oneself, deep deep down,
Of the silly little mistakes in life
On, leading, to the worse bigger picture
A picture, rather grey and sombre.

Fists clench and the handles bar the brunt,
Of a turmoil inside the heart and head

Of perception, of purpose, in all aspects
On matters, not going quite right,
As the soul yearns for the missing,
Expecting an epiphany, so elusive and rare.

Brakes and momentum release the long reverie
But only momentarily, before it slips again,
Far away in corners, dark and desolate,
With only itself for company, raving on
Oh! Why in God's grace does loneliness strike?
In the busiest of places, among humongous crowds?

Lonely, desperate and idle the mind analyzes,
As roads rush by, in the foggy morning
Further it delves, in this huge dilemma
Skating in a rink, all by itself
In the symphony of soulful music, it succumbs
The destination arrives, we alight and trudge on.

-Shubham Chattopadhyay