The rain pours down
And blurs my vision
Through the glass pane.
I feel the derision.
It mocks me,
It’s sneering at my mood!
All those drops together
Me in my solitude.
I open the window
Beckon it towards me
It sways away
Almost instinctively.
And then perhaps
Accepts me somehow
Moves towards me
And drenches me down.
With the endless rain
I now feel akin,
My solitude’s gone
And I foolishly grin.
I grin at the sky
And the lookers on
It’s a happy day
For my solitude’s gone,
My solitude’s gone.
A wanderer, in the world, can only find peace if there are questions. And their answers. Having spent years practicing this art of breaking situations, people and places into smaller, more fathomable pieces, to swallow their meaning, I have run out of storage space. My brain needs to empty out. It is good fun, people should know what's in there. And maybe start asking their own questions.
July 21, 2007
My Solitude - Part II
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