Eternally an outsider…

Is it wrong to long
For the days that have gone by?
For every furlong,
You wish for the comfort of a lullaby

You walk the streets of The Big Apple 
Or the beach of Marina,
A spectrum of skin colors,
A symphony of tongues,
And almost infinite platitudes

Hundreds, nay, thousands look,
Stare, and sometimes smile.
And I wonder, what it took,
To be apart an inch, yet be apart a mile.

Walking islands, divided by the vast ocean
Always encountering a ridge,
When your wavering mind
In its utter dismay, anticipates a bridge.

Although blood is thicker than water,
Nativity and naiveté erode with time.
You long for that innocence 
at every turn, a resonance at every chime.

Soon you become eternally an outsider,
Peeking into multifarious stories
Wishing to be a part of the collective
Whilst wondering at the disjuncture of your endeavor.

Dread lurks in unaware 
When this becomes quotidian,
You dictate your mind to reel in
Whilst your heart works the chaos to revel in.

I wonder what took you so long
To look for the orchestra conductor
within, working his harmonious magic?
Yet the pandemonium within is quite so tragic

I wonder what took you so long,
To befriend that long lost soul,
When you bemoaned the lack of tranquility?
Solitude, my old friend! With you, I found serenity.

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