The lonely stretch of beach is a getaway
A break away rather from the nine to five routine
A space to indulge in listing
The problems that bother us as mortals,
Or to delist those that seem immaterial
Or inconsequential to one’s existence.
The expanse of the blue and the splashes of gold
Constantly fill aspirations of escaping the torture
A fettered human face
In every moment of his urban existence
As a father, a son, an employee and as a man.
The beach identifies them as Escapists
Absconders of responsibilities maybe?
Or comfort seeking individuals
To be intimate with oneself perhaps?
The beach is the only venue
In a concretized world
Where, all are escapists from forced existences.
Except for those trying,
To escape from themselves.
