The Young Man at the Wedding – Short poem


Dressed to impress, guests walk around with plastered smiles, nodding their heads at people who passed them by,  

the young man walked around with his own troubling thoughts and stares at the bright lights and the colorful commotion happening around, 

He felt distant, aloof and detached, like he was about to complicate his inner soil with unnecessary seeds that would find their way without his permission and begin their own process of growth and distribution, 

He felt like there was something about that event that was about to re-assemble his inner thoughts, and bring back those darned questions that he had so diligently tried to stop, He felt like the crowds there did not want him there,

He felt like the people here only wanted those whom they could resemble, relate to and feel drawn to like, there were masks and disguises, but the masks were assumed to be real and the disguises held on covering the soul, 

Pretty ladies adorned with vivid garments laughed in delight, like their faces were before their mirrors, but the mirror were the crowds, their dark piercing eyes wandered around,  prancing about like looping sparrows, somersaulting in the empty wind,

They were looking, but one who felt their stare assumed that they were searching, the young man was not interested in filling his heart up with puffed up longings and premature celebrations, the feminine spirit was only interested in seducing and feeling important and wanted, 

He was an outsider amidst this jolly pomp and celebration, He longed only for answers to the questions that arose like phantoms within his inner temple,

 His friend was on the stage, but then again, who was a friend…? Weren’t they often times enough mere labels…?

Something that one could boast about or use to drive away his own lonely fears and demons…?   

My dear there are some things that you were not meant to find out, whispered a frightful voice, but in bits equally calm and enlightened, this he realized as the voice of his soul, the shadowy realm of eternal knowledge, 

Is there an end to all of these inner questions that refuse to stop…? He asked to the invisible yet menacing eye that he felt watched him whenever he walked, and talked in places filled to the brim with crowds, strangers and perplexing simple folk, if this was the extent of all life, if what was being preached at tea stalls and road sides was true, that all of life was terrible, then why on earth was man born..? Couldn’t there be a way to stop it all…?

‘How wonderful life is’, echoed the crowd, ‘when you’re in the world’..they sang before they got back to celebrating the joy of life, the thrill of riches and gladness, whilst a woman with a scowl and old clothes picked up pieces of litter that the indifferent crowd threw down, 

Was there a kingdom of darkness and a kingdom of light at work here…? He thought, He knew that at times he was fearless, he did not allow any one thing to take command over his soul, but the crippling questions remained, 

Was there a steady direction to life…? Would he merely live life like everyone else…? Would he find love..? Would he not feel the unconscious darkness attacking his moods in the midst of day someday…? Was there life after death…? Whose life here was doomed to fail..? 

The young man stared at the stage, there was his friend, his face had a smile that was polite and held in place by good intentions, probably taught or learnt from experience, his new wife gleamed with some facial glow, there was no reasoning behind her smile, she was a natural when it came to being the centre of attention , she basked in the visitor’s attention, she diverted their praise and maintained a face of quirky smiles and clueless recognition. 

The young man realized that his friend had finally found the one, or atleast the one who he would be wed to, and strangely it made no sense, there was his friend, and he felt that he should be happy for him, and he was, but there was something that did not feel right, 

But the young man brushed it off, he was no psychic or soothsayer, he had his own life to worry about, but was this circus of seeming happiness a play…? Was this open vanity or was this real…? The door opened to a world that did not contain all of this merriment and joy, 

The young man felt more dismayed, he had lived through terrible ordeals, he had been subjected to bitter life altering experiences, he had transcended his past nature, but still life threw him into confusions when right in the midst of something mundane, an emotion sent his heart splitting , and the welcome familiarity of his intellectual thoughts were separated and the unique hostility of the real dwarfed his own foundations carefully constructed over time, 

The young man felt more and more immersed in the abject despair that comes whenever he felt disconnected and detached away from the community of stranger full crowds, some familiar, others not, 

Here he was again, in the all too real yet dull realm of the familiar and architecture stained by the affairs of men, 

there was nothing sublime nor worth looking forward to in such extraordinary ordinary places, 

He wished to ride on the back of a camel as the crescent moon pierced the tops of slumbering pyramids, 

He wished to fly over populated and dystopic cities and read the thoughts of its billion separated souls, 

he wished to draw lines derived from mathematical algorithms and find the cure for nothing and boredom, 

he wished to read signs that appeared as brief glimpses buried in the epidermis of the face, 

he wished to meet the invisible yet thinly manifested soul in the lives of men in bondage to civilization’s dark impulses, 

but the food that he was searching was spiritual and his own savage seeking hunger could never be satisfied by the voyeuristic glimpse into society’s meaningless celebrations, he could only see ruin beyond this momentary delight filled with a million unrealistic fakers and hypocrisies. 

There was a monster inside of him crying out for spiritual food, crying like a child discovering the stars after being buried in the dead of a house and a crib, crying like the cry for wisdom in the heart of a fool broken continually by debilitating falls, 

The young man, ground his teeth, and walked out, this was not his world, it would never be, his war was different, his friend would understand, 

The young man was not afraid of truth, He stared at the skies far above the sterile glow of the high neon lamps, consuming the dark beauty of the night millions of miles above glittering with the dots of hidden worlds and constellations of swords, dark like the gypsy’s mysterious eyes and cryptic forecasts, He was a military soldier, his heart was at war, at war with what was normal, with conformity, with ideas of how one was expected to behave, at war with peace, 

And strangely, far above, where truth did not need bits and pieces assumed and believed to be the whole, the young man’s heart was being drawn to what he was truly searching for, for the very peace that was hidden behind all the confusions thrown in a man’s path, for the truth behind all of life, 

The young man was slowly being driven towards the very arms of God.   


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