Philosophical

My world where beauty died ... 
Alone amidst the crowds. 
The seas of faces I ignore 
Alone in thought and smile; 
mine ... hollow, forced, superficial 
and so are theirs, I think ... 
Alone yes, even in loneliness; 
Vagabond I ... 
Stark colours of cruel streets 
And lonely highways 
Of lonely skies 
reluctantly relinquishing remnants of blue 
Dark, dank, dirty corners 
Of city and mind. 
Of city and soul. 
Of city and heart. 
Smiles like tears in rain, 
There but not seen 
nor conceived 
nor realized 
... or understood 
For who taste tears or rain? 
Vagabond I who claims to seek the silence 
Who longs for loneliness 
Vagabond I who knows the silence 
Who cries for its embrace 
Yet prefers the thundering city voice 
For there, strangely yes ... 
For no sense be found. 
There lies my only world 
My only substance 
My only peace ... 
And I, I killed its beauty ...