Far above the ground, a high rise’s lonely balcony he sits
On the top but all alone
Fresh air, clean air - no fragrance
He watches the sun go down,
And looks at the people on the ground
Dwarfed by the distance, crawling like insects
He has risen from that dust and grind
On the top but all alone
But, he is happy to be there,
Alone, solitude, no conversations, no interactions
No hustle-bustle, no pains.
Listens to the music of a far-off land
Seems familiar but he can’t remember
Some faces float before him,
Eroded by the sands of time
He tries to relate them, but the shinning lights blur them
He sits and watches the lights of this big city
On the top but all alone
His eyes sparkle, but they are vacant,
His face has wrinkles, each telling its own story,
Of love, hate, betrayal, and denial,
Of sacrifices, responsibilities, loyalty,
Of success and failures, meetings and separations,
Of the battle and the war,
He won the battle, he lost the war
On the top and all alone
His food is rich and warm,
But there is no one to dine with him,
His life is lavish but charm less,
He lives because death is not his need,
He has conquered life, death has forsaken him
On the top and all alone
His cushioned bed awaits him,
Each night’s cold grave
Every morning he rises like a dead man,
And descends from his high tomb
To deal with the livings below
Whom he abandoned long ago for this height”.
This height of success
This height of power
This height of glory
This height of perfection
This height of rich life
This height of the “living death”
He wanted this height, he needed it
He fought for this height, he strived for it
Sacrificed everything for this height and he attained it,
No Regrets; he got his grave atop a high rise
