The only companion of loneliness is silence. Theirs is an unceremonious marriage like - Couples in the middle of their middle age, That mutually run out of things to explore.
One tries to find meaning in keeping a book, That tells the same story a million times over- Hoping to find white pages in the yellowed mess. But that hope too, soon becomes a relic.
But lately I've come to love a poem, That unites loneliness with silence- It's the twisted compromise made- By water when it settles in a container. It is written on the faces of mothers- Whose husbands are away at work.
A verse in the wind that all men hear, To an effect that it stitches broken hearts. It is a call for worship in an unbuilt temple And the belief that enshrines love in trust.