Alone …




Alone with notes of faintly remembered melodies,


once known, now mere murmurs,


carried by the veiled breeze,


wafting over oceans, spanning stormy seas.




Alone with doleful sighs of turtledoves,


consoling their mates,


weeping in willows,


as the howling wind of fate billows.




Alone with dirges soaring beyond walls,


creeping through ivy covered steps,


to the barricaded fortress that is my heart,


discarded, left, festering on broken hearts’ cart.




Alone with mournful whispers,


echoing along halls,


of crumbling mansions of yesteryear,


tearing at the chains of imprisoned fear.




Alone with

promises of a new dawn,


somewhere along the slippery slope,


embraced by the perennial thoughts of a new hope.




Alone with jabbing memories of interred truth,


flailing, gasping for air in so many tears shed,


dispelling the spectre of a stifling rope,


blinded by the mirage of being able to cope.





Alone with memories of then,


thoughts of now,


swarming through a soul that refuses to bow.




Alone with travails yet to face,


the heart fortified, resolute to go on,


crawling on boulevards, no longer a part of the numbed rat-race.




Alone at home, this weary traveller,


walking tall in icy sleet, no longer terrified by slicing rain,


tying shoelaces on pockmarked boots,


to forge new alleyways ahead,


though always alone,


and always, always against the grain …