There is the crowd and here is me

There is the crowd and here is me,

In an attempt to find unity,

I bridge the gap with eager steps,

Jostling for a place in the mesh.

It’s hard to breathe.

It’s hard to see.

I feel so tiny in this throng of human bees.

Buzzing and moving, to gather, to store,

An array of minds all synced to a single core.

I met Jack, on his way from work,

He’s a party loving and hardworking clerk,

He hates to be dull, and thus makes sure —

Like everybody, to follow the new haute couture.

His wife is happy, his new car’s working fine,

His boss laughs at his jokes; in fine hotels he loves to dine,

He hoped I was good, but didn’t ask for more,

His chaps were waiting, with beers and cricket scores.

I saw Jack waving a bye, vanishing in the swarm,

Leaving me wondering,

In the rush, unarmed.

I stood aside, as the crowd pass by, a moment and some few,

I mused about why Jack was called dull,

— and not me nor you.

 Rakanjana Sen The “Moody” Khana

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