The hidden identity

Curious, I pick up a book

The writer unknown to me

I enter someone else’s world

To explore the life they lived

To feel the love they lost

To embrace the joy they felt

To share the pain they hid

I begin to explore the world unknown.

The joyous ride begins

I meet and greet new people on the way

I read who they are

Their name known, their face unknown,

Yet in them I find a reality of my own.

Then comes the time to bid goodbye

By the time I close the last page,

I have found a friend,

Who is sitting seas away frome me

Neither whose face I know nor his name

All I know of him is what he writes.

 

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Author: Paranjaya

What I have failed to speak, I have succeeded to write! - Paranjaya Mehra

2 thoughts on “The hidden identity”

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