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I was alone in a crowd of colours

Yet to merge with the explosion 

Of shades and hues

For those who held my chained history

Was yet to know or see me 

I was lonely in the crowd

Draped in 

Ancient kaleidoscopic history

I sang the songs of my bygone era, 

Of love and tragedies.

I rendered poems that embraced

The sighs and sorrows of human history.

I danced to the tunes of the distant drums

That sounded like thunderbolts.

And I was still not visible to the crowd

Lost in the clamour of the indifferent crowd

I feared I would blur

Into oblivion

And in that desolation 

I was losing myself

And I felt tired. 

Somewhere, sometime 

I folded my stories.

After aeons of dreadful, 

Dead silences

Someone asked

“Who are you?.”

“Why are you here?.”

And as I grappled with those queries,

I realised,

In those barren silences

Where I was invisible to crowd 

I had lost my language,

Songs and dances.

Those vibrant stories had become

A distant ache. 

And

It dawned on me that I need to continue

My chaotic chronicles 

of colour and clouds

Of sweat and sighs

For there will be a time when

I will be visible to the crowd

And I shall continue….