Faces in the crowd
among which I am one
each heart silently bears its joys and sorrows
the business of living is never done

as we have to wake up everyday
with the never-failing rising sun
(even the weakest, frailest and most sickly)
though the day's prospects are grim and life isn't fun.

Holding on, clinging on
dangling in the limbo
of survival and existence
what the future holds none really does know.

Faces in the crowd
passing and fading images--I know no one-
yet I feel their pulses as I, mine--- murmurs
of existential* angst---until life's sad drama is done.