The Lonely Are Not Lonely

It is as if you woke up one late afternoon everything became strange with you: place, time names, relationships and you won't ever be able to reconnect them again . It's as if you are standing on the coast of a still ocean you turn your head back from far away to a land teeming with melons but you don't recognise any of them . Until now while writing this poem there is a vagabond around every remote corner spinning to find himself . And beyond that... Perhaps there is a passerby In every empty alleyway looking for a breathing space . The lonely are not Lonely while they are together wandering searching for the scattered pieces of their souls . if there is still a glitter of hope for searching and finding