Okay. Hoping that nobody turns to this page, I will write what inspired me to post this.
The poem first. It’s about a man who is mad, and is running all way in a dark street to somewhere. Not nowhere, nor anywhere. Somewhere, and that means he has a goal. A stop. People won’t know where he ended, but he will. It doesn’t has to be death.
And it’s not to hell, by the way, in that meaning. It could be to(wards) heaven, but maybe comprehending life made his dunya a dozakh?
The traffic dissolving part is important, because that’s the only image I had in mind, to convey which, writing this became necessary. I wrote the same thing with a few differences in my journal in a prose form.
Anyway, why is the man mad? Either it is because he has understood the meaning of life and cannot contain it, or it is because his service can be taken only now that he has “apparently” lost it.
As for me, I am a woman and I am still sane. The poem is totally imaginative. But I have a goal to reach, a dream to follow; pursuing which seems HARD, if not impossible.
Normal people aren’t free, and no motivational quotes can break barriers of rationality and responsibility. Sigh to that!