We have all at some point in our lives been at a place where we wanted to just escape from all the madness in and around us. “Question II” is a poem I had written when I once stood at that point.
With an eagerness to escape,
A want of liberation from hysteria,
A longing for breakout from dementia;
Breeds a crying impulse to run,
Run as long as,
The shout is its own sole companion.
The impulse to reach,
A far away land,
Where clouds celebrating return,
Pour down in a melancholy rain,
Where the woods stand,
As a welcoming abode of warmth,
Where open fields,
Await the stars.
Is it true so in that remoteness,
From this hustle,
There is peace,
There is truce?
Because it’s time to go home,
It is time to escape…