Meditation On Solitude

The light along the bay burned through the night as if to emphasize the dark, not tame it, throw the hours upon slow fire and show that one keeps watch, and may not sleep, as if there hovered over him a stillness he could not profane. From each high moment's passing ecstasy a stubborn and exasperating love lurked underneath, fed by a god, perhaps. There was a wrenching, nagging urge to change, to weep for those who can no longer weep and offer them the tears. He knew that every soul who finds himself alone upon the stage when pomp and circumstance is over, then might contemplate the bag of lenses that he took from all the years before, and testing one.......his very own, would look for some far palace on the hill. Alas The child of every age is prisoner between soft barricades of stubborn self. No wonder death is the escape of choice, for everyone makes change of circumstance but when the night arrives the walls still hold, the shackles are secure and freedom is a strange and distant song. He would not sing to dawn, unthinkable. For set apart, his journey was within, the walls his covering, and their soft flesh his eminent domain. And all we need to see is just the light reflecting there upon the water, through the endless night. ~