A man walks past,
Not that, any know his past.
He is just another, in the world vast
His dreams, His hopes, His desires now.
None do care, even not his own shadow.

Every man, alone in a crowd.
Every soul does a face shroud.
Each one of oneself proud.
Another man, just a stranger,
Unless without him, self is in danger.

Too many footprints along the shore
But each pair alone, more and more
Be it present or tales of yore,
Self and another are just apart,
however close lie their heart!