Amidst the fervor of anticipation

Within the lackluster trends in urban life,

Walked a millennial on a thin knife.

He longed to be approved,
Identified,
Just be felt as living,
Instead of another carbon-based thing.

He labored, toiled,
Accomplished whichever turned,
A soldier on a mission,
He continued without fruition.

He achieved plenty over many a moon

But failed to garner the approval he sought,
Blaming himself he asked the Almighty in June,
“What is wrong with me or is it a pointless line of thought?”

He thought to himself whether all his efforts were of any worth,

Pondered on his life thus far on others terms,
But found himself deserted, unable to go back or forth.

He would not be what he is today without those directions,

There would be fewer accomplishments and possibly no media mentions,
But does all that define who he is by birth?
Is it those Things that make his life have any worth?

If yes, then what is he still looking for after the summit?

Why is he looking for a non-sarcastic nod for solace?
Does the approval of your maker make everything worth it?
All he got in response was silence, an eerie silence.

Eventually giving up on this merry-go-round,

He decided to move on with that cursory “Fine”,
Pasting a smiling face on every line,
Without an ounce of discrepancy to be found.

This went on and no one could discern the cracks behind,

The occasional teardrop on the pillow,
The rare shiver trying to sleep while in a mental grind,
Was all swept across and hid away the sorrow.

But that does not mean he forgot to speak,

Failed to convey when he was too weak,
It’s just the language that was a bit unknown,
Since the silence alone had all the vocal cords blown.
He wore a mask for all to see,
But all concerned saw only ecstasy,
Till someone came along,
Who had been through a similar wrong.

A gaze was enough to feel,

For all wounds do not heal,
All tears do not flow,
The pain is only conveyed through the brow.

They did their best to accommodate each other,

Move away from being mere robots on command,
To be identified as humans who occasionally falter,
Yet silence was the only common they had on hand.

They once tried listening to each other’s silence,

It was actually DEAFENING,
Speaking of countless tales to wear out patience,
More engaging than ones in books and way more EXPRESSING.

They discovered that their language is quite common,

Though not easily understandable on this earth,
But it is a talk across eons, a summon,
Silence speaks. It does right from one’s birth.