Hidden Poem by Puskar Sikdar

On the magic carpet of desire's wings, life soars in an enchanted bind,
Yet, the hammer of fate strikes the heart, relentless, unkind.
Amidst the crowd, in an empty space, someone still waits,
Lost in the whispering reeds where the weary wildflowers hesitate.

A traveler, exhausted, gazes at the sky's endless blue,
A letter with no recipient still calls out to clouds that once knew;
Clouds whose cotton embrace stirs a restless sigh,
Hiding familiar strangers as the heart races by.

This city, wrapped in a slumber of endless haste,
Deaf to the cuckoo's call, its melody gone to waste.
In the throng, where space is scarce, where silence struggles to breathe,
One faltering step, and wounds unseen cut the soul beneath.

At the dream's threshold, traders swarm with schemes untold,
Flooding desires with rivers of darkness, hearts bought and sold.
Even hidden away, peril still finds its way,
For life's path is filled with strangers, all pleading fate to sway.

Swept by the tide of humanity, bonds are left behind,
Fragile masks of affection hide indifferent minds.
The road of solitude is narrow, quiet, flowing like a stream,
Yet, in longing's embrace, it offers the taste of a dream.

Now in those darkened waters, despair's corpse drifts away,
Caught in whirlpools of fate where the silt forever stays.
Drowned in moss-covered silence, it forgets where it belongs,
Lost to a world where identity melts and the tide moves along.

But not all verses of battle are erased from life's scroll,
Regret still wanders, seeking stories untold.
And in this sea of nameless faces, a lone heart still yearns,
Dreams fight through the tempest, waiting for their turn to return.