Walking through the lonely streets,devoid of any passerbys..
As silence becomes the sole company,it feels like this walk is a walk through time..
Time becomes the horse,karma it's saddle..
And the lonely streets devoid of any passerbys,drunk in darkness,
A passerby travels..
No one waits for the return,no one waits with door open..
He can only feel dread,unease and pain,as he walk alone,
Under the dimly lit doorways,standing with hands spread for alms,
Of pieces of his heart,that donot even want to come back .
In the lonely streets,he stands..
Asking for something that he could not have..
A dream..
