Twinkling Souls
Sitting alone in a hotel room
Looking out over flat roofed buildings
At twinkling lights across the Island.
How many lights?
How many people?
Sitting alone in their rooms?
Looking out.
Alone.
Searching.
Despairing of finding ourselves.
Fearful of discovery
That I am Me.
Who is dying?
Slowly but slowly we all surely will.
Choice is everything.
Copyright © Rita Simpson | Year Posted 2011
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