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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….