Solitude Is That Creative Clay

Unheard remains, a man, in a herd
Who finds, his soul, in the, silent sea
More gravity, in whisper, of his word
Than in, the world’s, deafening orgy!

Which completeness, hankers, my heart
Like a cipher, ever lusts, for infinity
What’s Mozart, without, torment of art
An enigma, trapped in, time’s trinity!

O’er squeaky, desk, in a rickety, hearth
My world, begins, pursuits never end
All my epics, of, misery and mirth
Are the labors, a lonely heart, can spend!

Why not, breathe bliss, of banality
Than choose, to be, world’s castaway
Which transcends, rites of, rationality
Solitude, Is That, Creative Clay!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra

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