Walking downtown
with an aching soul,
Pondering over
a zillion things,
listening to strangers,
whispering
in one’s ears,
many buildings,
to be seen,
many colours
to look at,
many people,
to ignore
but suddenly
there’s a halt.
And thoughts are
triggered,
ignited,
protruded,
and then yielded,
though one prevails,
a reminiscence,
A memory of an ant,
moving rather slowly
and quite unnoticeably
through a globe.
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