Soul-searching

The morning breeze is cold,

As I take a stroll, 

I see flying birds twofold,

Chirping away without cajole,

The chirping I found comforting, 

As though they are singing, 

I found nature amazing, 

As I am soul-searching, 

Steady drone of lawn mower I heard, 

Reality I came back with a stirred,

Now I am blurred, 

This is so absurd. 

Now my soul-searching is intruded, 

Then reality protruded, 

I wish everything were muted, 

I wish I am secluded.