that I live in an empty house
with an empty heart and an empty bed,
I scanned the face of every passer by.
A lot of contemplation and
observation it took
and I found that people with mates
and good lives were no less lonelier,
Some mated like dogs in seasons
and squabbled other times,
and lived in bliss,
without communion but a lot of talking,
with reasons to live
To live as people live,
converging in the whirlpool that eternally
runs high in the bazaars of the world.
One may get a mate,
and some children to fill one's life,
It's running moments,
But to get one who fills life's inner emptiness
With whom you feel like flowering under the sun
And the moon,
in the wind and the storm,
With whom you unpetal and sway into
the other realm of love,
hardly comes by.
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