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.