In shadows deep, where silence reigns,
A solitary man walks the lanes,
No kin to call, no friend to claim,
An observer in life’s endless game.

He sees the smiles, the fleeting grace,
Yet feels no warmth in their embrace,
For in the midst of crowded scenes,
He’s but a ghost with fractured dreams.

Through valleys vast and mountains high,
He’s witnessed wonders touch the sky,
The grandeur of the world unfolds,
But only he the vision holds.

He’s watched connections bloom and fade,
Like fragile threads in twilight’s shade,
They come, they go, they leave behind,
A quiet ache within his mind.

Yet in the whisper of the breeze,
And in the rustle of the trees,
He finds a peace that soothes his soul,
Nature’s balm, a fleeting goal.

The golden dawns, the velvet nights,
The endless stars in silent flight,
He’s seen them all, their beauty true,
Yet longs to share the wondrous view.

With brush in hand, or pen to page,
He crafts a world to quell his rage,
In colors bright and words profound,
He finds a place where hope is found.

But like the storm that splits the sky,
With lightning's flash and thunder's cry,
His path keeps shifting, never still,
No solid ground to find his will.

Tired eyes scan the hollow days,
Watching others in their plays,
Orbiting lives with vibrant hues,
While he remains, a muted muse.

He does not yearn to be a part,
Of their games or in their hearts,
But craves the warmth of company,
A soul to walk this path with he.

He helps where he can, with gentle grace,
But finds no one to share his pace,
For every road he tries to take,
Leads to a place where hearts don’t wake.

He’s walked this path, so worn, so cold,
A silent story left untold,
Of a man who, though among the throng,
Is ever alone, where he belongs.

Now, weary from the unseen strain,
He wonders if he should remain,
In this orbit, where shadows loom,
Or seek a way to lift the gloom.

But even in the darkest night,
He finds no solace, no respite,
For solitude’s a bitter friend,
That lingers with him to the end.

He’s seen the ties of life’s embrace,
Yet none have stayed, they leave no trace,
And though he walks this road alone,
He dreams of one to call his own.

So he walks on, though tired and worn,
In this life, forever torn,
Not seeking to belong within,
But for a hand to walk with him.