Back to where I belong. The place where there is no rhythm and song.

There is perpetual restlessness in the air.
Unease and discomfort writ large in people`s brows. Knitted deep till the brows mate. Like lovers connected by affinity.

Trying to find meaning in their lives has become the meaning in their lives.
Trying to outmaneuver and outlast their imaginary foes and competitors.

Trying to make futile attempts to make their lives worthy.
Hoping against hope that they win, succeed and achieve or atleast have a good time while they are at it.

Clutching wildly at straws as if they are the last source of happiness.
Not realizing that the more you chase happiness the more elusive it becomes.

They are fighting for time, fighting for survival, fighting for self esteem or just fighting for fighting`s sake.
They want to be there. In the deluded world called success and achievement.

They want to be. They want to be the wannabes. We just let them be. Because we are them and they are us.
Living in the circle of outmaneuvering and outlasting. Cycling through a circular loop.

Thats why its called the human race.