The Park

In the midst of the colossal giants
That surround this borough
There is a small blotch of greens
A small paradigm of nature`s face
The only one in the core of this city
It is called a park

I sat there, watching
The sky, or a patch of it
Not covered by the giants
Not freckled by the artificial flies
The trees, old and dying
Left uncared for

Then, I flexed my gaze on the boulevard
The sun had just risen, the dawn had just metamorphosed
Into a bright new morning
And just as it did the rabble grew
A legion of old and young
Left their shelters and were out
To take over from where they had left
To start afresh, their interminable spree

I watched them run, I watched them walk
Watched them laughing and talk
They were loyal to their masters
To the holders of this civilization
For they had not the slightest hint
Of discontent on their faces
Even in the face of consternation
They carried on
With a sort of uncanny obliviousness

Not that I was any different
I belonged to their creed
I took wake in the wake of dawn
Slept in the denouement of the dusk
I too laughed and talked

But had always had a dubiety within
A suspicion, an indecision
As to who is my companion
Among all these compatriots,
Who is my confederate?
Or do I really have one.
And so I come here.
To be left alone for a while
To unravel the mysteries hidden
Deep within me

In an enclosure, just like this park
With these unchaperoned trees
Like my unheeded thoughts

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