"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."
- J.R.R. Tolkien
The irony of it all is the loneliness of a star.
Not noticed in the nebula, she glances from afar.
At her neighbor’s neglect, even in nature of quasar.
The irony of it all is the silence of the owl.
A lot in the gloom it used to hoot and growl.
Prior to the onslaught of looks with a scowl.
The irony of it all is the frostiness of the blaze.
A fire that only freezes surrounds me in haze.
My friends, the flames, their stare a cold gaze.
The irony of it all is a bird that wants a cage.
Astounding is the absence of his own faith and sage.
To acquaint with his habitat, he is afraid to engage.
The irony of it all is a knight with no one to save.
To issue a kind aid, insignificant it is to crave.
So the importance of his ideal is dug into a grave.
The irony of it all is an unbreakable heart.
Tired of trying, it is an insatiable art.
That Heart’s betrayal splits the soul apart.
The irony of it all is the kissing of the hated.
Love was hostile, but the exes again dated.
And my heartbeat for her was hasped and gated.
The irony of all ironies, a phantom of tangibility.
Roaming amongst humans, champion of inutility.
Is the ghost of an emotion, the dust of heart’s fragility.
This is the first poem of the fourth chapter and it starts this last section of the anthology with a somber tone and a tight structure to reflect the ghost aspect of the speaker, bound to be unseen by the people around him and emotionally and psychologically unable to free himself from the prison he and others put him into.
