The Fugitive

I wrote a note long back,

Not one around;

And I long for a read,

A critique all I need.

I wrote a song long back,

No audience around;

A soiree all I need,

Musical soiree indeed.

I touched a verse long back,

Inspiration moisturized into it;

A rhythm all I need,

Fruit of my seed.

I met a mirror long back,

Nothing I could see;

Darkness all around,

Music, Lights and the sound.

I met myself long back,

Nothing I understood;

Now with one more look,

I know the journey I undertook.

Disillusioned we stood,

Meet yourself in silence;

Many soul lost out of negligence,

Never - this one in all your sense

 Shamsud A