Inner-Self Of A Loner Poem by Asavri Dhillon

Warm feet rest on the cold floor,
The brain focuses on the movements of muscles.
For a second, the soul can wander freely,
Oh, the muscles contract, twist and turn.
Empty stomach waits for a grain to land on its flesh.
The hollow body waits for the fluid to wash it through.
The blood in the veins dried,
Cheeks became paler and the eyes deeper.
Loneliness plants so many seeds in a soul,
That for others the soul becomes a forest to rest in,
To play in, to hide in and some even try to solve it.
With time the branches tangle up and on some days,
They shed leaves.
Wondering why sunlight never reaches the roots…
If the trees have hollow roots and no leaves,
Will the trunk stand erect still?
The trails in the forest are fading,
For very less people go deep in the forest.
But when they do, they take all the precious things along,
Leaving the waste behind.
The soul cries, rebuilds and lags in the daily race,
Fog sets in to comfort every corner,
And takes the warmth of the travelers away.
And the soul awakens.
Finds itself among a huge crowd.
It suffocates, gets nervous,
But then the body pushes it along.
And it becomes a slave to the brain.
If the brain merges with the soul.
Time keeps flying, crowd keeps walking…
The eyes see nothing… but just the dreams.

2017-02-04