Crossing the road as the light bleeds red,
Symphony of stringent legs,
Hastening, each step: heavy as lead.
Not a tick to ponder, focus torn asunder;
Too late to retract, too early to brave & act.

Bound as a fabric, ceaseless drones,
Each morning’s whine, a clone of moans;
In the gears of the giant, they churn and sigh,
Underneath a solid, tie-patterned sky.
Hushed dreams roll over and why?

Wry notes clasped in yellow sheets,
A narrowing grasp, a deathly routine.
Soft murmurs rise, then faintly wane,
Phantom echoes in corridor lanes.
Blues, its hues, & a monochrome subdued.

Among the throng, visions falter and fade,
Aspirations whisper, quietly unmade;
Beyond the crowd, they see bounds of fame,
Bound to the cries of another's claim,
Dreams tethered to a fate, a curb preordained.

Faces blur in transparent glass,
Voices linger, swallowed in veiled past,
Lost in transition, translation? Why aghast?
In a world bustling, yet loudly impassive,
Silent lores turn massively passive.