Abandoned Hands

I watched a prompting feature by a dynamic actor,

his life seemed vivacious with an ardent factor;

today I heard he'd hanged himself to a lonely death,

deserted fears overpowered zeal in his last breath.

I read an exuberant story by a young wizard of words,

he weaved a mystical world of magical unbound birds;

today I read he'd poisoned himself confined to bed,

forsaken wounds hidden in his entranced utopia bled.

I lulled to sleep listening to a soothing old song,

the vocalist hummed a hopeful melody of spirits strong;

today I found he'd killed himself in a car crash,

derelict ruins of his past made his symphony backlash.

I wondered why remarkable people succumb to pain,

until I witnessed an old neighbour cry amid rain;

he has always been bounteous to those he greets,

with bubbling rhapsodies of witty puns he treats.

I remembered the times I've been haunted and glum,

reverberating void eclipsed flickers of hope so numb;

in times like those my stranded ship found a shore,

when I spread my struggling courage to a meek roar.

While lost souls bask in shimmers of uplifting drops in rays,

their tangled cobwebs in dark alleys lit by smiles in haze;

I wish we hold marooned hands to keep walking ahead, 

my unnoticed neighbour gleams with healing tears shed.

*Poet's Note: A promising artist hanged himself to death today which led me to ponder upon something I have felt. I've always witnessed great uplifting souls(even commoners) to bid goodbye to this world when the last drop of their courage evaporated. Most of the people mask their pain behind their courageous, upfront, cheerful selves publicly. The world needs more love, hope and blessings to let people notice and understand each other because every single human being experiences depression at some point in life. It is none but we who can be the guiding light to each other. This year has been a test of faith already. Let's help ourselves and others to heal the souls.*