Poem by Dr. Jernail Singh Anand
Man is maximum when he is alone.
There is only wind around him which spreads
Far and wide;
And oceans of blue skies
Envelope his being;
It is now, alone, and in utter silence,
That he can converse with himself.
In the home,
The wife and the kids, this problem and that,
Eat away the datistical space.
No space is left to man
When he is in society.
He entirely belongs to the voices
He listens from outside.
When the outside is silent,
He gets a chance to be alone.
And, see what happens.
The body lapses.
And he turns a consciousness.
And flows back into realms unknown.
The maximum man arrives.
When we are alone with ourselves.
When we open the casements of thoughts
When we move into memories we like,
When we call around us people we love most;
That is the maximum man.
A lonely man is not a man given to grieving.
Being lonely and loving one’s loneliness
Too is an art.
It is a calm comfort for man to be with himself
And out of the trouble’s way
For a specific period.
Dr Jernail Singh Anand
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