Being alone is a facet of existence.
Glued to the rim of his small world
every one measures heart’s tense
to the beeps of the brain;
His immediate ends is his orbit,
has no wish to peep beyond for
the world’s tribulations not his forte;
The spider never breaches the net,
Is alone, content to hibernate;
An altruistic mind shares joy and suffering,
ever alive to the hum and clatter,
at home with the ends of the string.
He too has to wrestle with the inside,
left alone with the rim of his world.
When celestial bodies are rimmed
and celebrate their lonely sojourn,
why not rejoice being alone?
we have to make it productive! just nice...the lonely spider is alone, weaving the net to catch its food...it is productive...Thank you for sharing..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you for your appreciation.