There is no first snow of the year
And no fall except leaves to clear
There is no mountain breeze
Or sunset on a beckoning sea
I have nothing but my mind
To which I am freely confined
In the light devoured by my shadow
Lives a purpose I cannot follow
I cannot sleep in its presence
As it drips on my conscience in mocking defiance
As I wallow in a proudly inflicted wound
My friends refuse to become consumed
With wait for a dream to come true
They walk before the shadow covers them too
In the arena of Spartan solitude
Slavery to convention can be viewed
As eyebrows raise at the hint of deviance
The master becomes captive to his own indifference
What is a welcome respite from conformity
Becomes an obsessive reason for apology
Begging for twilights revelation
Of my purposeful indecision
No matter my random pace
The light assumes its place
As does my troubled reflection
Revealing no earthly companion