When crafty lonliness bugs you.

When this crafty loneliness bugs you,
You tend to hug the warmth of humanity,
Phlegmatic matter of routine dilutes
Your already thinned nerves,
The warp and weft of your soul’s
craving seeks the inner meaning
of the cosmos, existence,
you read every movement of the crowd,
yet, Supine, helpless, on the podium,
bow of violin goes up and down,
sings serenity in cacophony.