Tired?

PART THE FIRST

Down the steps by the University gate,

Stands a tree that leaves its leaves behind

As I walk down its veins

And as I touch its vines.

But it looks pale at days I tell,

It loses the usual vigour

And like I, the man broke in thoughts

It contemplates nothingness in glee. 

There is a way to daily tread

Nothing new on those lively threads

The sky burns and the music hums

But late at night, my feet are numb.

Tired, am I in a world of friends

Or tired is my world with little sense

A computer that sits all day by the table

And a mobile to hold with tags relatable.

Hours of sleep drain no pain

Sleep itself comes like some desert rain.

Tired, am I in a world of mischief

Or tired is my world with little to perceive.

The books lie on the table, now dead

My face lies on my arms, like a bed

After a chaotic piece of a humdrum day

I have little ears for a lot to say.

Tired, am I of this meaningful stance

Or is my stance tired with no meaning at bay?