He was another face in the crowd
Another body grinding in the surging mass of humanity
He remains the same
Separated, yet a part of the populace
Respected, yet often misunderstood
Loved, yet often loathed
Adored, yet left alone in a sea of millions
Fulfilled, yet heartbroken
Practical, yet daydreaming
He tries to write, and knows that his words mean much more now
He starts writing, and he knows that life isn't the same anymore
He continues writing, and realises that he is happy to be a normal person, yet, some shackles stop him from doing as he wishes
He concludes writing, and rues the fact that in spite of his love for writing, his work keeps him away from it, for months together
He knows that he will write again. Love has a way of bringing things around...
Till tomorrow comes...