Loneliness, you, the great misunderstood privilege,
You, oh terrible and gut-wrenching luxury,
To face that expansive, internal abyss,
And to know myself, wholly,
In deepest despair and boldest bliss.

Slow motion memory, you intricate skill,
Towering and dangerous like waves of wine's sea,
Decanting your motion and learning to savour,
Sweet moments of wonder, drunken and divine,
Show me myself in my buried behaviour.

Oh this grey prison of our waking eyes,
It is colder than our long-lived and taciturn tides,
The moon smiles, beaming, upon our wavering way,
Knowing that our fervent sun will soon set fire to our new day.

This stranger pain and that neighbour sorrow,
They are jealous of the colours we are saving for tomorrow,
To blot them with night's ink is their insidious intent,
Let us hold our precious currency of colours, even until our last breath is spent.

The advent of our springtime seems as unlikely as our salvation,
Perhaps our darker clouds will begin to cry for our hydration,
Those tears would greet that arid soil like the dew drops greet the morn,
And from the dearest droplets fall, our spring is here, our spring is born.

It is a long walk in the pointed dark,
And a short stay in the spherical light,
A wheel of Ixion, an electric looped spark,
We are a round hallelujah in the middle of the night.

There is a transient fortress clicking on,
And a lightning of learning is following me,
The Owls and their penetrating, prescient song,
Say tomorrow is no burden, and she will be free.

I am seeing him presently and I will see him again,
Though not prepared for first goodbye and hello of tomorrow,
Sad and smiling Ixion, you and I are we and them,
Lonely, tired, hurt and afraid, I'll love you again in spinning sorrow.

We all have something singularly unsayable within. Nothing can or will ever get to it, not even other souls. This is the loneliness we were all born with and this is our only salvation.

A solace in solitude has me confined,
A thought whispers wisely from the back of my mind,
In humanity and life we are nothing but a cry,
To an internal truth and self we so often deny.

Oh, but what we can create persists,
Take pain, take hardship and clench their fists,
We are ready for a world that can harden hearts,
When we breathe in compassion and shame departs.

Be vulnerable and so in turn, be brave,
Change does not even let go in the grave,
We are all power and weakness, both lion and lamb,
There can be no certitude to who I am.

The world, on a whim it does reside,
Stability is fiction and fear hides inside,
Learn to ride the wind of this strange existence,
Power of mind is relinquishing control and resistance.

I can hear the rain,
I can see the flickering candlelight,
I am alive and there is love within,
I'm going to be alright.

I know where I belong, perhaps we all belong there, in the light-hearted dwelling of creative arousal,
In that airy perception of beauty around us,
There is residence there for all,
Only waiting to be taken up,
A room in the kingdom of heaven.

Yielding to the demands of this predicament,
My mind hard-wired to bear this suffering,
My heart has lifted the burden of resentment,
And yes, life, I want you and all that you're offering.

I know pain that can torture a stoic mind,
I know beauty that can paint over the darkest shadow,
I feel joy so intensely, it can make me blind,
Yet the darkness catches up, it might find me here tomorrow.

Zoom in on life and it sure can look ugly,
You have to transcend that thin point of view,
The masterpiece was always there to see, far beyond the idea 'me',
More wondrous than I thought it was, it turns out that I am also you.