Reflection

He stood at the Crossway begging for alms. His demeanor looked like he was singing the psalms. With folded hands, gazing at the sky he mutters. The spewed words that tormented his grey matter. Half naked, he sometimes sways, in a trance. Rehesrsing the jive of spiritual dance His Emotions enraged in screams Recalling his Shattered dreams. Images that creep in his mind in daylight. Were even more vivid in the darkness of night. His withered body looked like sculptured by bones. As though some one had wrung out his blood Suntanned skin, Like dark dry leaves kissed by the summer heat. Which shatter when crushed under my feet. The scares on his face reflect the pain. Wrinkles and crow’s feet are his passions etched in vain. Stars appeared like teardrops; on the cheeks of the sky. Gently the breeze caresses; his frail body as he sighed. He longed for sleep that eluded him for years. Perhaps he never tried hard enough, lest he awakens his fears. Suddenly he heard music playing in his head. He just smiled, and lay down, and he was dead. I looked at myself in the mirror. Aah....!!!! It was not me??...but the man in the street.!!