let evening settle into night,
let dawn unfold to day;
let me remain the anchorite
the world has tucked away

each battle has her casualties
and i am one of those,
the difference is the art of death
that heaven for me chose:
the world is cruel and hasty, so
i left it to forget;
i let the world be kind enough
to be my oubliette

i knew that on the day i died
the world would still go on —
they never noticed i was there,
nor that i'd even gone.
i left before those *******
made a misanthrope of me,
and let my body fallow so
my spirit could be free

with nothing but myself and god,
contentedly immured,
i pass my days in prayer and praise
in union with the lord.
there is no sweeter bread or wine
to tempt me from my cell,
so let me rot in limbo while
the world goes all to hell

let others be the prophets!
that is not the role i play
let me remain the anchorite
the world has tucked away