hauled up with a cavernous protector
far away from the dawn light
loss of distinction, morn and night
departed from those you love
casting a thought
to before you were a passenger
laid bare in this damp shelter
waiting for the walls to cave in
the days you took pleasure
in the meaningless endeavour
of the artificial existence
are replaced by days
so broken by monotony
and the plight of the many
so you sook a life most solitary
where your thoughts weigh heavy
each day you think of them
their optimism and naivety
as you draft another letter
destined for nowhere
as years take their toll
and the days feel like weeks
and your joints ache with growing ferver
you draft another letter
The hermit in this little tale is tired of the structure of everyday life, and has escaped to a place where he can live on his own terms.