The Lost Passageways Poem by nithya raghavan

As the aircraft comes
to a grinding halt,
in my homeland,
i feel the strings that
pull within me,
at the scent of the
strangely moist air, all
the thoughts of the
past splurging into my
miniscule, selfish mind.

Billions and billions of
people, have stepped into
those silent passageways and
streets, billions and billions of
them branch into the
roads, that are put
across by destiny,
and they lose themselves,
like ants in an anthill.
As i walk through
the familiar yet unfamiliar
roads, sense the unusually
bold rustling of leaves,
against the cold wind,
It all appears the same
once again, the same mob
that clutters around me
on a serene evening,
the same lively air,
that carried itself as,
a spectator to the
fireworks in the open space.
Only difference is that,
dust settles on the same
pages of a book,
which the eyes trod once
again, to unravel the
alphabets, the words, the sentences,
that chain themselves together,
as an outcast to
the changed times.................