Messages of my Solitude

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am swelled up by the distance

Of my sanctuary of privacy

 

A hermitage of lonely weight

The sense of silver on my shoulders

 

The peculiar prophesizing

Of my kingly states that come

 

But a few times in a lifetime

I am engorged with

 

My own innate sense of simplicity

Approaching an idle retreat

 

From all life, I would like to believe

It has a purpose, some calling

 

Desolate from old desires

Canceling out memory

 

As if it were an infancy

Of recognition of the journey

 

Nasty things I would say

At my own funeral, I’ve come

 

To realize the limitations of

My ornamental tendency towards pessimism

 

Who do I serve in my ineffability

If not myself, in months like these

 

Of dissolution where I burn

The bridges, merely a few more to go.