Reruns

What are any of us

doing here, would you say

I for one seem to constantly

Tell myself only of

my shortcomings,

perceived,

Wondering if a walk

of thoughtful reflection,

seclusion,

around the globe

might be my road

as it is for all

from start to finish,

death,

not that I don't want

to look left and find

Eyes of kind inflection

looking back,

I just

See the plain earth

I know the soil

of our cycle,

not really,

But I FEEL the obviousness of loneliness. Singular, a fresh breeze in any weather is a single moment

Of everything divine,

I am nothing?

Yes. But self refuses ease.