Solitude Poem by Sushruta Mishra

Isn't it pleasant, being in solitude
When there's neither brass nor flute,
Neither bothered by the chatter of clones,
Nor pained by the beauty in tones.

When every blow of breeze sends a chill
So pleasurable, so bliss, doubtful seems an encore,
But dashed are the doubts, when it breezes again,
Angered by thoughts, Challenged by hopes.

When an obscure pebble catches eye,
Among so many, that lay in disguise
But, trampled was the one eyed
Not so many others, that lay beside

When it rains, first drop strikes, delightful
Dashed solitude, but too soon,
Too many, that come pattering drops,
Lost is the first one among many others.

Alas, too much, too many, the worldly connections,
Bound by expectations, hopes and emotions,
Solitary remains the solace in solitude,
Unfelt, Unknown and Unserved.